Amaranth
by Tastetherainbow929
Summary: A vampire doomed to love. Inspired by Twilight amongst other fairy tales I've reda. An original story.
1. Chapter 1

_Part 1: Pathways to Surrender_

Chapter One: Last Song

Is this what is call suffering? The dark, heavy clouds laughed at her. Their hefty bellies rumble and jiggle. They fling water at her face or rather _spit_. The cold rain stung her face; her ears ached with their rumbling laughter. She hugged my knees and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart throbbed in her chest, her stomach churned with dying butterflies. An unbearable sob escaped from her lips and soon they melted in with the rain until there was no difference. They both nipped nonetheless. The grass felt wet and itchy against her cheek and it compressed her lungs, making it harder to breathe. It was suffocating this which we call love. It was empty this which we call loneliness. So which is better? Is it better to struggle to breathe and write or is it better to feel nothing at all? It did not matter. He was gone with an expression he said he would never show her again. My hand stretched towards someone who had left and perhaps was never there.

"Darian," she whispered, choking on my tears. She wiped my runny nose with my sleeve and clutched a handful of earth. It did not mattered that eu4 breathe in and tasted dirt. It did not mattered she was waterlogged. He was gone. He was gone.

A large shadow hovered over her, clutching an umbrella. The person stooped down and somehow managed to juggle the umbrella and myself in his arms. She buried her face in that person's chest until her sobs become no more than leaking hiccups. She felt that they were moving. The sidewalk seemed to glide right past their feet or err—his feet. Where they went, she did not care, with whom she did not bother. She just wanted to sleep. "Sleep, Lucia," the voice murmured. "Just for a little bit, sweetie." She did sleep or rather she drifted. Her eyelids drooped and she slowly repositioned myself to a more comfortable snuggling form. She dreams were filled with person's voice. Shall I tell you the tale?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: In the Woods Alone with You

The dawn peeked its head through the window. It extended its warm rays and bid me a chirpy "hello". She raised her hand to wave back to Aurora, but she felt something heavy dangling from her wrists. It was metal, cold, and heavy. Each link was masterfully crafted and done. Oh, why was she complimenting the person who built her level one prison? Perhaps it was too early in the morning or she was loopy from lack of sleep. She was insane either way. Her eyes traveled up and down her body that was draped in a filmy nightgown. Her wrists and ankles were shackled. Gasp!

The room was lit by candlelight. Even among the flickering sparks, she could see everything clearly. There were no windows; the gauzy curtains of my luxurious five-poster bed were drawn back. When her bare foot touched the floor, they jerked back. The tile floor was absolutely frigid! Along the walls of her room, there were stuffed animals of every kind: Bears, hippos, bunnies, dogs, cats, etc. Their little black, beady eyes peered back at me lifelessly. Only then did she catch her reflection.

She screamed, horrified at the person staring back at her. She stroked the frosty glass and gazed at the woman-child with sunken, gray eyes, a too-gracious mouth and thin hollow cheeks. Her body seemed wraith-like; it was willowy and looked fat too old for the soul inhabiting it. She croaked, yearning for some words to come out. Her chains rattled fearfully and were dragged across the floor with her.

"Lucia", the voice murmured. "You're awake". The voice seemed surprised. She uttered naught a word; she simply shook my head so a curtain of dark blonde tresses would hide her face from him and herself.

The person pushed aside the floating mirror, the mocking stuffed animals. Two pale and cold hands cupped her face and drew himself closer until they were eye-level. His eyes were perhaps the most beautiful she have ever seen. They were a cerulean color, misty like the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. She could never see the bottom of the oceanic orbs. They were too complex, too many layers that she did want to explore.

"Oh," she gasped. It was all she could manage to say. He laughed at her response. It was light, carefree. It filled the vacant space of her chambers and made the candle flames dance. She glanced at him from behind her veil; an agonizing expression was etched on her face. His smile faded quickly and his sapphire eyes grew round with sympathy and—love? No, how can it be love? They barely knew each other. So, was it concern? Yes, that must be it. Concern.

"Lucia," he pleaded, his voice strained. The flames kept dancing; their orangey-red spirits wavered to an unnatural breeze. Did she hear singing? Someone was vocalizing. The stuffed animals seemed to snicker mockingly at her. Damn it, why was everything poking fun at me? Wait—today?

"Lucia, wake up," the voice begged. She thought she was awake. Everything felt so real. Every sensation, every smell, every person. If she woke up, the person holding me would disappear. His velvety would fade and she would alone. she would go back to curling up into a pitiable ball on the lawn. The person holding me seemed real. This was real, she reassured herself. She could feel his hand stroking her face, his warm body pressed hard against hers, his tears burning her skin. Oh, do not cry! _I_ should the one crying.

"Angels should not cry", she whispered, wiping away his tears with her hand. She wish that somehow both of our sorrows could be stopped. She shook my back hair and gazed at him fully.

"Believe me. I am not an angel", he answered sadly. For a moment, he looked just like Darian.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Eleven: Daydreams

The blonde femme fatale sat quietly in her cell—manacles of bewitched silver bound her wrists and ankles. Her hair hung limp like a cat's yarn ball and so did the rest of her. Her eyes were dull and dark as the void with shadows that hung under her eyes. Lucia resembled a raccoon with a taste for blood than garbage. She was hugging her knees and rocked back and forth—wrinkling her nose at the scents of decaying rodents and other things that were far too decomposed to identify.

A little slot on the metal door slid open and the spot of light momentarily blinded the female. She coiled away from it and spit a hiss at the emerald eyes that peered in.

"Such a shame—you were a fine human—to be turned into _that_," the cold, velvety spoke with mock regret. Her eyes met his and a sigh came out of nowhere.

"Hungry?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. She hissed again and heaved at the chains that bound her.

"I was being sincere, Lucia," Darian continued. The metal door swung open with a creak and a flame-haired man in street clothes walked in. In his right hand, he held a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid and in his right, a plastic pouch of blood—probably from the hospital blood bank.

Lucia stuck out her chin and glowered at the man with defiance. His emerald eyes softened and he dangled the blood bag in front of her face. Hunger proved to be the stronger beast. White hands flashed and grabbed the plastic pouch. She tore through the material with her razor teeth and guzzled the delicious crimson nectar down. It filled her, warmed her insides and left a sense of completion for the moment.

Darian watched with indifference, he wiped the trickle of blood from the vampiress's lips with his thumb. He unscrewed the little vial and inserted the syringe through the latex covering. He slowed filled the syringe with the clear liquid and pulled the needle out. He grasped Lucia's arm and injected her with a heavy dose of the _vaccine_. The female was still in a daze from the blood ecstasy and could not fill the needle puncture a nanometer into her skin. Then snap! The needle broke before the serum could get into her dried veins.

"What?" he exclaimed, growling at the broken needle. He painfully squeezed Lucia's jaw, snapped the syringe in half and poured the clear liquid down her throat. She gagged at the tingly aftertaste and tried to spit out as much of the crap as possible. The liquid slid down her throat like mucus and tickled the gag reflex.

Her body convulsed and a shine of sweat gleamed on her face. She looked like a horror mannequin. Her breathing was staggered—not that vampires needed oxygen. The body needed oxygen for speech and it _is_ uncomfortable without a sense of smell.

A warm, strong hand stroked the side of Lucia's face and soft lips murmured sleep. She brushed his hand away and retreated into a ball. Darian turned away and exited the door. The metal door swung shut and all light ceased. In the room, in her heart and in the world.

Darian strode down the brightly lit hallway—several personal in black nodded to him in greetings. There was a pair of metal doors at the end of the hallway. A pair of heavily-armed guards stood like statues on either side. Darian flashed his ID to the guards and wall allowed admission. Beyond the metal doors was another hallway—dimly lit— with a never-ending amount of doors. The metal ones closed behind him and a spark of light shuddered in the distance. He followed the light, his street clothes dissipated in a blink and was replaced a long black coat, turtleneck and pants with three red stripes running diagonally across the leg.

The ball of light hovered next to grand, wooden doors. They sung open and a room resembling an ancient court room waited. Darian stepped inside and five bodies bore their sights down on him.

"Daraniel Azuma, you are charged with fraud, illegal use of Council database, and other _heinous _crimes with mediocre reasons," said a nasal voice and it droned on and on and on. Heinous is defined as tedious—just a side note.

"Your Eminence," he politely interrupted. "I have a perfectly good excuse."

"I repeat, 'mediocre reasons'".

"Which is?" a baritone voice boomed. "A vampire and third-rate demoness."

"Your Eminence. The presence of those two upsets the balance of—" Darian began.

"There are hundreds of vampires in this world and you have enough stupidity to say that they are a threat to the big picture. That is implying that sharks are bad for ocean life," another voice resonated.

"But—"he tried to argue back.

"Sharks control fish population. Vampire control human population," the same voice concluded. Vampires were not doing a fine job, though.

"Your Eminence, I am not speaking of the generalization vampire. These two have attempted the forbidden black magic and it has backfired into a bi-soul complex with dual time—" Darian worded carefully.

Silence from the Council. I got them now, he sneered.

"You see. Gabriel and Rowan's time have long pass by several centuries. Those two have been long overdue and now the Angel of Death is trying to restore balance. How many innocents must die before they equal the lives of a vampire and demoness?"

Silence.

"You are proposing to eliminate Gabriel Mazelli and Rowan Triste then leaving Jack Bromnal and Lucia Fitzgard to take their place—therefore satisfying the conditions of Diabolus Pactum."

"Yes—"?

"We decline."

"What?"

"This is not worth the—it is exaggerated to ridiculous proportions."

Silence.

"Of course, you were summoned here for another reason. We have reviewed your current and past records and it is very disappointing. We have no choice but to revoke your surface world authority and bind your powers. You have proven to us that you have lost sight of what this duty is about…"

The Council's face faded and the floor opened up below Darian's feet. The man plunged deep into the darkness and a voice called after him," Take your prisoner, too."

Darian landed on the balls of his feet and looked around. It was Gabriel's penthouse. His face was then pressed firmly against the carpet and a moment later a body that weight like a ton of bricks fell unto his back and delivered spasms of agony and dust mites in the crevices of his teeth. Beams of sunlight shone in through the windows and lit up the living room. The ten-ton body rose to her feet and turned toward the sun. Darian groaned and managed to flop onto his side—his eyes widened.

Myth states that vampires burst into a ball of flame when in contact with sunlight. _False_. They are known cases of vampiric sensitivity to sunlight, nut not that serious to become a pile of ashes. _No._ Lucia was an angel—ish. Her ivory skin glittered like thousands of one karat diamond. An ethereal aura surrounded the vampiress and wrapped around her still form and serene smile. Pools of eyes gazed into the sun with content and a denture packed with a predator's teeth. Her hair cascaded down her scalp—the color of lemon curds. She was a Greek statue, gossamer and divine. It was a Kodak moment. Patricles discharged from her skin, they floated up the ceiling and disappeared. All that was missing was the fireflies and dusk, She turned her head towards Darian and sighed.

"I had forgotten what the sun was like. I was always afraid of what might happen when I walked into the morning. Would I cease to exist?" she murmured.

Darian was breathless . He merely gawked and perhaps dribbled some drool. Her laughter was so soft it was a child's giggle. Indeed, that was what Lucia was—a child, She slumped onto the floor and continued her expressions of awe to the other glorious sun.

"Lucia…forgive me," he uttered. Her serene face casted it glow onto him. He had to look away.

"Always," was her reply.

The radio spat out alternative rock and that kind of crap. The pounding of the guitar and drums cleared her mind very easily. She sat like a statue on the couch. Listening, always, listening. A yawn came from the hallway and Jack walked in with a pigeon's nest of hair, wearing absolutely nothing.

"Wait a minute," Rowan said. "I do not remember the sight of you taking off your pants anywhere in my memories."

"I like to boast," he smirked. "I can't help it if I'm gifted." He strolled up the hallway to find his scattered articles of clothing. The female shutted off the radio with a click and slithered into the kitchen. She wreaked havoc on it. The refrigerator was quite offended by the end of it Rowan whipped up a quick breakfast of defrosted waffles, sausage, and leftover hash. She split the remaining orange juice into two glasses and laid out forks, knives and napkin.

Jack reentered wearing a pair of brief. His hair was unjumble and no longer attracted birds and their feces. He smiled grandly and devoured everything on his plate.

"A vast improvement," she commented sarcastically.

Hmmm. The guzzling of concentrated citrus juice that claimed to be all natural.

"So…describe to me Gabriel," Jack said.

"He's an oxymoron. End of story," she turned her back to her breakfast.

"Awww…it sounds like you're mad at him or something," he reached over to devour Rowan's plate.

"You try solitary confinement for who knows how long—? She answered.

"You shouldn't be mad at him for that. I mean—I'm guessing that he was just trying to do what he thought was good for you," he argued.

"Look, I know that Gabriel always have good intentions but they backfire—" Rowan's voice dropped to a low, "horribly."

Jack slowly lowered his glass and croaked, "how?" The female glanced over her shoulder and sighed.

"I cannot tell you that," she replied.

"What? Why? I want to know!" he protested , stabbing the counter with his fork for emphasis.

"Ask Gabriel yourself," Rowan snapped. She scooped up the dished and dumped it into the sink.

"Rowan…I'm sorry," he apologized, hi tawny eyes casting their innocence at her.

"You haven't changed one bit," she grumbled, savagely scrubbing the dishes, glasses, and eating utensils under hot water.

"Have you outgrown me?" he croaked. Silence. The rushing stream of water pounded and clattered of metal forks. His face contorted with pain and he whimpered softly.

The air was thick with silence and rays of sunlight peeked in through the crack in the curtain. Jack stomped away from the counter and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The auburn-haired woman shutted off the waterand dried off her hands with a towel.

"He's still a testorone-filled child," she muttered. In the depthsof her mind, gears and shifts clicked to formulate a plan. It pieced itself together bit by bit. I have watched for too long, she thought. Rowan strode into the living room, scooped his keys off of the sofa, slipped on her shoes and went out the door.

Jack laid on his back staring at the ceiling. His brow furrowed into a frown and his lips puckered into a pout. She has outgrown me, he concluded. They had spent most of their childhood together—well hers anyways. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, frustrated. What the hell do I haveto do? Grow a foot long beard and sideburns?

Vroom. Vroom. The male sat up quickly and flung himself to the window. There was Rowan in all her siren beauty on his motorcycle?

"Fuck no!" he exclaimed, wiggling into his clothes and shoes. He opened the window and launched down the fire escape. He quickly trudged down the metal steps only to see her take off.

"Hey wait?" he yelled after her and in response, she waved. Finally he got to the bottom and threw up his hands in fury. Crap. Crap. Crap. I haven't paid off the loan yet! He kicked a nearby trashcan and sent several well-fed rats scurrying. He surveyed the area around him and saw nothing, but garages. Wait a minute—garages? Cars? Grand-theft auto? Bingo! He lifted open the nearest garage door and to his luck was a black Jaguar. He ran up to the car in glee and imitated the sliding-across-the-car-hood-move seen in many movies. Of course, also seen in the movies was the sliding-across-the-car-hood-too-far-and-went-off-the-other-side. Jack crashed into a wall with a shelf stacked with tools. A rusted piece of pipe rolled off of the shelf and barely missed his crotch by an inch. So close to being a pet eunuch! He sighed in relief and got into the driver seat. Jack reached under the dashboard and fumbled with the wires until he could start the ignition. The car coughed. Perfect. He quickly placed the car in reverse and rammed into the same kicked trash can. He sighed and began to drive forward when he smacked into another trash can. He looked around to see that he was surrounded by trash cans!

"Crap! I forgot it was Garbage Day," he cursed, slamming his forehead against the car horn. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. He painstakingly maneuvered his way out of the metal and noxious maze. His Jaguar resembled a perfectly rectangular metal contraption on wheels with a trapezoid hump. Vroom!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Default

"Lucia…Lucia?" the voice asked sweetly.

"Yes?" she replied.

"I love you," the voice sang.

Then there was pain. Her body stiffened and my back arched, a painful howl escape from my lips. My neck seared and burned like there was fire in my veins. Stupid venom. My legs collapsed from under me and I thrashed like a madwoman. I continued screaming long after my voice gave out. So my voice was just a gaping hole with nothing coming out. Funny, funny funny. The pain traveled from the left side of my neck, down to my organs and down to my toes. My nails raked at my skin until it bled and I rammed my head painfully against the tiled floor. Stop the pain. Stop the pain. Who the hell is burning me? Strong cold hands pinned my chest down and cushioned the back of my head. The person used one arm to pin both of my upper arms down horizontally and placed his weight on my legs. Is not amazing what pain can do to you?

"Sssshhhh, Lucia," the person whispered intensely. The scent of oak was there again. Gentle lips brushed my cheek. His breath smelled like liquid copper. The pain intensified when his lips traveled toward my neck and my open wound. I found new strength and saliva inside to scream. The inferno slowly subsided and a cool rushed came into my brain as my body relaxed and I let the cold take me. I could hear my heartbeat slow down. What happens when you sleep in your dreams, do you wake out there?

His voice crooned a lullaby in my ear. "Oh night thou was my guide/of night more loving than the rising sun/Oh night that joined the lover/to the beloved one/transforming each of them into the other".

I remembered someone crying. Warm tears skated down my face, but the tears were not mine. My eyes fluttered opened and let out a soft "oh!" Gabriel's tortured expression stretched and marred his beautiful face. He was beautiful, my saddened Adonis. He cradled me in his arms, whispering sweet apologizes that healed nothing. I smiled meekly and mumbled that it was okay. Everything was okay and the same, yet slightly different.

My nostrils were filled with new scents that I never smelled before. My eyes caught details that once escaped my human mind. Did I use the word "human"? Yes and yes, I believed I commented Gabriel was beautiful, but I was entranced by the candles. Even though Gabriel and the candles are both _smoking hot_. Their spirits shimmered like belly dancers and they felt so warm. The shadows leapt onto the walls and provided temporary entertainment. It made the stuffed animals more eerie though. I cooed like an infant, exhilarated by this new sense of adrenaline. Gabriel half-smiled at me, thought the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Lucia," he called painfully.

"Yes?" I answered mildly. I purred serenely and placed my head against his chest. There was no heartbeat, but then I did not have one either. One except a person who is technically dead, but is still living. That person should be in panic right now, terrified of what she has become: Some zombie freak with a blood fetish. Speaking of blood. I am famished. I silently quoted in my mind, _First—Chill—then Stupor—then the Letting go._

"Gabriel, I'm hungry," I commented innocently.

"Hmmm…you're taking this very—very—very calm," Gabriel replied, arching an eyebrow. I nodded; somehow this skin suited my better. I delicately boxed those pesky human emotions and rejoiced inside. I was reborn—strong, gorgeous, and immortal! I managed to wiggle out of Gabriel's arms and got to my feet.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" I urged him excitedly. Gabriel rose slowly to his feet and glided to the door, holding it open for me.

"Ladies first," he muttered flatly. I dashed out the bedroom door through halls and doors I did not recognize. I did not even notice when I left the house entirely. I followed my nose. Woof. The woods blurred past me, I was a blonde and white streak in the woods and I savored every moment of it! Gabriel trailed behind, his expression passive. I giggled with joy, the freedom was exhilarating. I breathed in the crisp night air and soaked in the moonbeams. I vaulted up one of the evergreen trees, arched my back and allowed myself to freefall from the canopy. Whee! Then the scent hit me. Food.

I dashed madly after the scent, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. See, vampirism is not always a pretty picture. I blame Hollywood. I gasped in delight, I could feel the heat emitting off of the meat bag. A rather hunky meat bag with pulsing blue veins that just wanted to be drained completely! I landed softly from the freefall and left the tiniest rustle in the bushes. I was still learning. Anyways, It was leaning on one leg, one hand on its hips and took a long drag of its cigarette. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of burning nicotine. I was tempted to sneeze, but I held my opinions to myself.

_One, two, buckle my shoe. Three, four, kill some more._

I pounced.

The meat bag did not even get a chance to open his mouth.

His neck snapped cleanly. Down went my fangs. Up came the warm and glorious crimson nectar. I drank deeply, losing myself to hunger and thirst. The underwater ballet song kept playing in my hand. Hahah. My head spun and my senses went numb. I could not stop. The blood kept coming, it kept gushing like Mars' Fountain! I did not want to stop. The blood deliciously scalded my throat and the metallic taste lingered on my tongue. I detached myself from the body and tossed it nonchalantly aside. I stared at my blood-caked hands, blouse and wiped my stained lips. The blood wanted to come back up.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to purge myself of this. The wonderful feeling vanished and just an empty pit remained. I broke down into tearless sobs. I could bear for my filthy hands to touch anything.

"Lucia," Gabriel called to me softly. I stared at his clear blue eyes, horror-struck. He walked slowly towards, his smile meant to be reassuring/ He could have said it was okay, that everything was going to be all right once I wake up. He said nothing of the sort.

"Lucia, what did you do exactly?" he inquired innocently.

_Five, six, break 'em like sticks. Seven, eight, drink 'em up straight._

"I—I was hungry—and I killed him," I replied, surprised how calm my voice was.

_Nine, ten, do it again…_

He stopped in a mid-stride. His expression froze and his hand rose and grabbed air. He slowly uncurled his fist and blew on the palm of his hand.

"Lucia. Leave. I don't care where you go, but _leave_," Gabriel said, his honey-like voice hard as amber.

"But—I," I started to argue.

His eyes flickered to mine. His deep, rich violet eyes bore into mine. He boomed "LEAVE!"

I ran. The pathetic blonde, new fledgling of a leech ran. I streaked past hills, towns, people, and states until I was exhausted. I would have to feed again soon. I slowed my run to a halt and glanced over my shoulder. He was long gone. Now we are even, Gabriel; we both lost someone dear to us. I lost Darian and now you lose your precious Lucia!

_Nine, then, do it again! Nine, ten, do it again!_

My lips curled into a smile of a well-fed cat. _Meow._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: You're It

Gabriel played with the cork in his hand, rolling it around and memorizing each and every tiny hole with his fingers. Which number was he on? Six hundred and two? The flames licked at the logs. The brick fireplace gave him no warmth, no solace. The shadows under his indigo eyes were proof that he had not slept for many, many years. He fed when he needed to, but even then it was minimal. He has wasted away, his cheek bones protruded from his statue-chiseled face and did not compliment his sunken eyes. God, I have turned into Lucia, he thought. How ironic. He flicked the cork off of the coffee table and took a long swig of his Cabernet Sauvignon. His butler found it funny that Gabriel drank wine even though he could not taste it. The rich are odd folks.

A life for a life. Oh, how ironic is this ink-and-paper filled world. Gabriel drank deeply until only a fifth of the bottle was left. To my health, he mused. His dark mahogany hair was in disarray, no longer slicked back and gelled.

The telephone rang. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. The corner of his mouth twitched irritably. He set the bottle of wine down and yanked the telephone and cord out of its socket and threw it across the room. Then he rose, grabbed a fireplace poker and rammed it through the dismembered piece of plastic several times. Gabriel snorted with disgust and kicked the pieces of plastic, batteries, and other crap into the fire. The flames were quite joyous about having something new to eat.

Someone knocked on the door behind him. Gabriel ignored it. The person knocked frantically for another thirty seconds. Then it stopped. He trudged back to his recliner using the poker as a walking cane.

Something sharp poked his lower back. Gabriel reached behind to retrieve it and found his fingers touching a wooden frame and a panel of glass. He brought it forward, and smiled wearily at the photo. It was a photo of him and Lucia. It was an innocent, carefree Lucia. Her dark blonde hair shone in contrast with his mahogany tresses. She wore a simple white sundress and was happily cradled in Gabriel's arms. His fingers traced Lucia's face and a drop of blood rolled down his cheek and splattered on the glass. Crap. It was after the _cruise_ that Lucia had finally gave in and let him love her. Gabriel's image was just a smidge fuzzier in the picture as if the sun was slowly erasing him away. His expression was amusement with a very cocky eyebrow. The vampire sighed; it was like the light tinkling of chimes. He slipped the picture out if frame and tucked into the pocket of his pants. He tosses the frame into the flames and reached for his remote. With a click, his stereo came alive and new age music came blasting forth. The song was called "Noble Heart", played with a violet and/or flute with perhaps some drums in the background. It was a slow, somewhat sorrowful song. Even a person with a noble heart can die, Gabriel sighed again. I toast to you, knights of the ages.

The song drifted into alternative rock, "So Cold", by Breaking Benjamin. Gabriel mouthed the lyrics to the song and thought if only it could be _alright_.

"Sir, there is a young lady on the phone for you and—"the man behind Gabriel started to speak and his eyes traveled to the hole in the wall where a certain vampire threw a certain tantrum.

Gabriel rose reluctantly, and followed Adrian, his butler, towards one of the phones located in the hallway. He was still leaning on the fireplace poker. Look, Ma, I'm old, he snickered in his head. Thump. Thump. Thump. Shuffle. Shuffle. Thump. Ring—crack!

The vampire had rammed the poker through the telephone that hung on the wall.

"Call the contractor in the morning, Adrian," Gabriel mused. He darted down the spiral staircase that resembled a dragon's spine. The butler just stood there in shock, his eyes flickering back from the three foot piece of metal sticking out of the wall and the decimated telephone. _Call_ the contractor, Adrian exclaimed privately. He regained his composure soon after.

"But what about the young lady, sir?" Adrian shouted after the vampire.

"I know who she is," the brunette answered, his laughter ringing through out the penthouse. Gabriel quickly grabbed his coat off the rack and rushed out the door. His feet made a soft, shuffling sound against the rug and rushed to his private elevator. This was not the time for stealth. Gabriel pressed the lobby button and straightened his shirt, smoothed back his hair and donned his coat. The elevator musak did nothing but irritate him. The lift slowed and halted with a minor shake. What really surprised him was who showed up.

Ding. "Hello, Gabriel," the voice chirped. The chirpy voiced belonged to a sultry seductress. She had dark, blonde hair that tumbled like waves down her back and over her breasts. A curvy and delectable figure was encased in a skin-tight, silk dress with a low v-neck and slits on both sides that go up towards her thighs. Every time she took a breath, it seemed that she was going to pop out of the dress.

Gabriel just gawked. The elevator doors shut and open repeatedly against his foot, unable to close. He choked, unable to form words. The woman ran her fingers through her luscious hair and uttered a low laugh, winking at him. The lady took hold of hand and yanked him through the elevator doors that threatened to smash him if he did not get off.

"Lucia?" Gabriel finally spoke.

"Yes, Gabriel," the vampress replied with a bright grin

"You look well," he commented casually. His bright blue eyes were glued to Lucia.

"Thank you. I've fed well," she said, erupting into a shrieking laughter that caused every head in the lobby to turn and look. Lucia guided Gabriel through the revolving door, to a limo that waited patiently for them.

The limo driver opened the door and the goddess slid smoothly in. Gabriel followed.

The doors closed with a soft click. The windows were tinted black. Lucia was sitting across from Gabriel so that they were face to face. The vampress wore a smug smile and she patiently tapped the leather seat with a highly pointed index finger. The limo roared to life and it streaked through the streets, ignoring the speed limit.

"It was rude of you not to answer my phone calls," Lucia started. Gabriel's mouth was a fine, hard line. He glared at the siren who wore the face of his beloved.

"Don't glare at me like that!" she snapped. "It's—it's—"

"Rude? Honestly woman, it's been over five years and your vocabulary has not improved one bit." Gabriel finished her sentence with a mocking smile. Lucia gave a soft "humph" and tossed her hair back. It bounced.

"You have grown vain," he said, a frown creased his forehead.

"So? One must cope with what one is given," she purred. Lucia examined her manicured nail and curled her index finger at Gabriel. He inched closer, his eyes troubled and ark.

"So—Lady Serpent, what game are you playing? Chess? Puppetry?" the vampire inquired.

"Ha!" she snorted. "I don't need an ulterior motive to visit you."

"After years of no contact, you show up at my front door—"he growled.

"Elevator!" she corrected.

"Elevator—and expect me not to believe you do not have an ulterior motive?" he continued, his voice slowly rising in volume.

Lucia smirked at him, leaning back, and in one swift motion: kicked off her high heels and lounged seductively across the leather seat. The tension seemed to die, but Gabriel's resentment still simmered on the surface.

Lucia sighed and shrugged. "Alright, I give up."

"What?" Gabriel's eyebrows shot up.

"I—said—I—give—up," she repeated and exaggerated every single word.

In a flash, Gabriel's hand punched through the black screen behind her head and grabbed the driver's collar.

"Stop this car now!" he hissed, ignoring Lucia's screams. The driver slammed on the breaks and sent the vampress rolling off her seat. Gabriel withdrew his hand and kicked the door open. He jumped out of the car and gave Lucia a crisp two fingered salute. His form blurred and with an unnatural breeze, he was gone.

The vampress purses her lips and stared at the concrete irritated.

"Charles?" she asked the limo driver.

"Y—y—yes?" he stuttered.

_Snap._ Lucia rolled the body out of the driver's seat and took control of the wheel. Such a waste of a meal, she thought before stomping on the gas pedal. The limo zoomed off with a screech and a burn trail.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Catnip and Mousetrap

Gabriel had kneeled down on one knee for quite some time now. He hardly breathed, his eyes scrutinizing images beyond the shutter-paneled window. His back was slightly hunched; he rocked on the soles of his heels as if to pounce. The rhythmic ticking of the cuckoo clock did not water-down the tension very well. A frown furrowed his brow; he had called Adrian over an hour ago. Where was the damn man? His hand slipped into his pocket and came out empty. He reached in several times, frantic. Where was the picture? Gabriel cursed himself for his stupidity then and now. He sighed in resign and sat down with his back against the peeling wall.

He chuckled bitterly and quoted from Faiz Ahmed Faiz: "For a moment, I really believed/That you alone gave meaning/To my withered love". His voice softened to a low whisper at the last line. The poem was beautiful in Arabic.

His old hiding place. This was where he fist started in this run-down, miniature apartment. No one had bothered to clean the place up in a few decades. This was where he always hid during the World Wars. He crawled over to an old drawer desk and opened the bottom drawer. Inside was a gun loaded with silver nitrate bullets with a special kick to it. Thank you, Rowan, he smiled reluctantly. Poison made from vampires _for_ vampires. He made sure it was fully loaded and pocketed some extra cartridges just in case. Now where was that vecrobelt?

"Could you kill the woman you love?" Gabriel asked the air.

_She is not the woman you love anymore,_ the air answered. _Just a shell without a soul._

"That would mean I do not have a soul either," he murmured.

_Let me alter my last phrase. Then how do you live? You would be a mere killing machine with no restraints, emotions, personality, reason, and—_

"And what?" the vampire demanded.

_Your brain sends millions of electrical pulses every minute. So you and I, we are no better than well-developed computer programs._

"The Matrix?" he humored flatly. Gabriel frowned at the thought.

_You cannot function if your brain is not alive. Your body needs fresh hemoglobin to—Indeed, you are 'undead', but—_

But what? But what? Answer me? Gabriel cried out in his mind, trying to box that mind demon and strangle the answers out of it. The voice was gone. I take back that thank you, Ro. He looked up at the clock. Five o'clock pm. When night comes, there will no boundaries. He closed his troubled burgundy eyes and for the first time in awhile, slept.

Laughter. The smell of wildflowers. Her clear and bubble laughter rang beautifully in my ear. My hand enveloped hers and lips pressed against lips. Her cheeks blushed beautifully like natural rouge and only made me love her more. Her dark blonde hair tresses were caught by the wind and they flowed like a meringue cloud. Sailboats traveled past us and I learned against the metal railings and grinned crookedly.

"Be careful not to fall into the harbor," she mused.

"I'll take you down with me," I snorted. Her face was mortified.

"I'm wearing a white dress, Gabriel!" she pouted. "Do you know what happens to cold water and white clothing?"

"Then don't jinx it," I teased.

I kissed her pouty lips, taking in her delicious scent. She smelled even better than a field of lilies. Her face turned stark white.

"Gabriel!" she exclaimed. "You're fading!" I reassured her that I would not disappear.

"You better not", she growled.

My laughter joined hers and together they made a fairy's melody.

"Let's take a picture, she suggested.

"Lucia," I started to say.

"You won't show on camera," she whispered disappointed. My grin stretched from ear to ear. I ruffled her hair.

Lucia ran off to find a person to take a photo of us. I pocketed my hands and watched with amusement. I was already becoming translucent. Too many hours in the sun and I would cease to exist. I could have those anti-ultraviolet ray windows installed. I heard my name shouted from a distance. There was she, an innocent nymph tugging along a dazed middle-age man. I felt somewhat sorry for him. He never knew what had hit him. Lucia told the man what to do with rapid speech and a disarming smile. I shuddered at _dazzlements_. Smile, kiddies, the man said. _Click._

"Sir, sir?" Adrian shook the slumbering vampire. Gabriel work to find emerald eyes peering sadly at him.

"What took you so long?" the brunette man muttered.

"I deeply apologize, sir. She recognized me! Now she's twice as determined now!" the butler whispered hoarsely.

Gabriel groaned and nodded gravely. This was worse than a college frat party. He looked between the shutter panels. It was evening.

"Damn! Damn! Damn" cursed Lucia as she glanced over her shoulder and saw the trio of police cars speeding after her. The speedometer rose to a dangerous 135 mph. His laughter rang loudly through the open sunroof and nearly matched the shrieking of the sirens. The vampiress bended down and tied the ribbons of her high hells to the gas pedal to keep it weight down. Lucia crouched on the leather seat and shimmered her upper body through the sunroof. The fierce, screeching wind whipped her hair at her face.

"See ya, suckers," her laughter turned into a triumphant howl. Lucia flew past her limo as a blonde and white streak. The bare feet and smoldering pavement were going to leave blisters. Ouch.

The police cars followed after the empty limo.

"Hey, Mike?" police officer number one asked.

"Yeah?" said policed officer number two.

"Who the hell is driving that thing?" police officer number one commented.

"Dunno," said policed officer number three over the radio.

"Hey, watch out—," the limo rammed into a brick wall of a warehouse. Fumes and flames went poof like a mushroom cloud after the nuclear bombs dropped. The first police car skidded to a stop several meters away. However, fate and momentum made police officer number two slam right into the rear bumper and policed officer number three to ram into the side with the gasoline tank. This in turn would cause police officer number one's car to rotate several circles and then flip into the blazing mound of a limo. Of course, that would send part of the engine through police officer number three's windshield and his skull and a fiery skull of a wheel at police officer number two. Police officer number two rolled out of his car, screaming to Mary for saving for his hellish torture. Any moment now, the fire extinguisher guy would come in and put out the blazing stuntman. Nah, we will just let him burn to death. The warehouse, too, leapt in flames. The spirits were going to have a feast tonight. Flesh, metal, glass, wood and cardboard boxes. The fire emitted a contrasting orange glow against the navy evening sky.

Smoke. Cries of pain. The image of skin and flesh peeling off the bone, hair dropping off the skulls in clumps and the blackened eyeballs popping made Gabriel's stomach churn. He squinted out the window and growled at the orange spot in the distance.

"She's getting closer," Adrian echoed his master's thoughts.

"Hmm, she's not a very good tracker. Too many mistakes and dramatics. Like a Mission Impossible movie," Gabriel murmured.

The vampire rose to his feet and headed for the door. Her butler started to follow but Gabriel raised his hand to signal stop.

"You will have to trust me on this," he said. "Do not follow me. Hide until all of this over."

Adrian opened his mouth to argue, but reconsidered. The vampire turned around and kissed his friend on the cheek and swiftly left with a _whoosh_.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Heaven Hath No Fury like a Woman's Scorn

Cold, white arms wrapped around his naked waist. Her delicate, spidery fingers ran through his lust, brick red tresses. Her inky eyes devoured every aspect of his perfect body just as he did hers. His warm lips brushed lightly against hers and pulsed with lust.

"Lucia, Lucia. My baby bride," he crooned. The vampiress had lost her cynic, masochinistic side. She looked so pale, so frail, so much like the innocent woman-child he had fallen in with and used. He stroked the small of her back and fed on her scent that reminded him of freshly-baked cookies. Hold the nuts, please. They fed on each other's emotion, bodies, and soul. He grasped Lucia blonde hair into a ponytail and wrapped it around her neck. His expression was meticulous and took in ever detail of her as if she was a kind of artwork. Her heart was whole. It did not matter how much pain he brought upon her nor how many liters of tears she wept. She loved him. It was as simple as that.

Lucia giggled softly, her black eyes breaming anticipation.

"D-d-darian?" she squeaked.

"Hmmm?" he answered, cradling her in his arms.

"I'm happy that you came back for me," she sighed.

"You know that I will always love you even when you get difficult," Darian said.

"I know/ I'm sorry. It's my entire fault. It's always my fault," she whispered. He ruffled her hair and uttered a laugh. Darian's emerald eyes narrowed and his expression hardened.

"Lucia. Go hunt before you decide to rip my throat out," he insisted. The vampiress giggled again and slinked out of their motel room, wiggling her hips.

Darian smirked and took out his razor cell phone, flipped it open and dialed the number so quickly that his fingers were a blur. He held the phone to his ear and growled at the voice message. He spoke rapidly into the phone, rolling his eyes to the sky at the _beep_ and closed the phone. He sat down on the age-old leather sofa that involuntarily squeaked and stunk. He interlocked his fingers and placed his forehead against his intertwined fists. Think, Darian, think. What to do now? I have to pull some strings.

He reached down towards his leather case and flipped the buckle open. He retrieved a foot-long hard-sewn doll and turned it over in his hands. The doll lacked a face, clothes, distinguishable features and other accessories. Darian poked the doll in the chest where the heart was supposed to be. A lump protruded from the underneath the cloth-skin of the doll and twitched. It started to pulse, the bivalves beating at almost the exact some moment like a true love muscle. Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum. Bumbumbumbum. Bum. Bum. Bum. He turned the doll over onto its belly and poked the third vertebrae. Then Darian set the doll down beside him in an upright sitting position. The doll compressed on itself, then expanded to four times its size. Worm-like bulges slithered up and down underneath the cloth-skin. The doll reshapened itself from looking like an outline of a gingerbread _person_ to a ceramic bru doll.

Out came a nose, ears, mouth, two piece teeth, hair and eyes. The cloth skin smoothed out until it was porcelain. The tint of the skin lightened to a warm ivory. Darian chuckled softly and cradled his new dollie. Is magic not grand? His thumb ran over the cherry, cupid lips and through its blonde tresses.

His cell phone vibrated violently in his pocket. One hand flipped it open and acknowledged, "Demon." He held his breathe as he listened to the other side of the conversation.

"No, don't worry. I got it cover. No, no, no. Don't bother." Darian insisted.

Silence.

"No, I haven't seen her. I thought she was hunting you! NO-no, crap," he cursed. "I'll meet up with you l—Oh. You're busy. Who are you going to see?"

Silence.

"What? That's dangerous! You can't—Hello? Hello? Fuck, he hung up on me!" He crammed the phone back into his pocket and threw the doll onto the floor. It landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Damn that gray-eyed bitch! He roared from deep within his lungs, but the spongy walls absorbed the sound waves. His form shimmered like a mirage in the Sahara Desert and faded like an old black and white movie.

An hour later, the well-fed Lucia came bouncing back into the motel room with her gray eyes bright and her slightly blood-spotted. Never forget to slit the meat bag's throat to cover up the teeth marks. Vampire feeding 101, please turn to section 5, page 96. Her smile fell when she saw that the room was empty.

"Darian? Darian?" she squeaked, her face contorted with panic. "No—NO! You can't leave me here again…" Her voice faltered. She fell onto her knees and buried her face in hands. Her shoulders shook with anguish; she cried tearless sobs and wailed like the loneliest banshee. Her breathing was harsh and forced. Her sobs became growls that increased in volume. She beat her breast with her fist and shrieked "why, Why WHY?" That jagged, burning hole in her still heart smoldered and the flames intensified from wild-orangey-red to a blue with a heart of white. To all you science folks that know blue is hotter than orange.

Lucia slowly stood, her fists balled and she glared at the wall with her chin high. Her eyes were hard, metallic, and as black as ink can be. Her mouth was thin, hard line and the hole no longer ate away at her insides, it just ached. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the doll. Her heels made a sharp click with every step. She stooped down to pick up the doll by its arm. She glowered at it, the doll smiled innocently back. She crushed the thing against her chest and exited room.

I hate you, she thought. Her love had hardened like a fly trapped in amber. There no escape. The fly's agony would be displayed for all time, surrounded by beauty. Come Sweet Death; take me into thin cold embrace.

Lucia ran. Everything flew past her, the world was a blur. It was like a bullet train with the wind ripping at your hair, bugs in your teeth and a high-dose of adrenaline. She licked her lips and squinted her eyes. Her senses flooded open and her mind scoured for Darian's. I will crush him my foot with a pointed heel through his eye socket! Hyah!

The citizens of Mannequin screamed in surprise at the multi-colored streak that raced through the streets. Newspaper flew off stands, grocery bags were thrown up in the air by their owners, and cars were in near collision of each other. Of course, several toupees were blown off of balding men's scalps and skirts flipped up, just for the humor of the scene. God, it was like the bad outtakes of an action movie.

She could hear the drums of battle pounding in her head. Her high heels snapped due to the inhuman friction and pressure. The wee doll clung to Lucia's dress in horror, her cupid mouth shaped like an "o".


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Remembrance

Gabriel stood on the dirt path that led into the dense, lush forest. The path was forked and led down two roads. His blue eyes were brimmed with sadness. The wind tugged at his loose hair and unbuttoned shirt. His left foot shuffled uneasily. Which way to go, he asked. He had not set foot into that Victorian house for a long, long time. He imagined vines slithered up the rails of the porch and white-washed columns. It would slip in through the cracks of windows, walls and the doors.

He headed down the left path, still musing about the conditions of his old home. Rose bushes of white lined the path and dressed the bottoms of gnarled tree trunks. He imagined the vast oak desk, gorgeous Monet paintings and the ebony grand piano covered in an inch of dust. Perhaps the dust bunnies will spring forward and attack him. Laughter. Laughter. It was easy to apply the "if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it. Does it make a sound?" to this moment. Words are harder to prove truthful when there are no witnesses.

Streaks of sunlight shot through the thick canopies of the trees. Drops of dew trickled down individual leaves and blades of grass. The path narrowed up ahead and the door of light opened. Gabriel arched an eyebrow at the dark clouds that just happened to roll in.

"Oddly—ominous," he said. He strode quickly across the grass with a pair of lawn gnomes grinning creepily at him. Pointy-hated and eared freaks of mass destruction: 'P.N.A.E.F.O.M.D.' He stood on the stone steps. His fingers dug into his palm and he starred at the door with the stain-glassed oval door.

There was a soft click from the inside and the gold-handled door swung open. He approached the doorway, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat first and then went inside. He scanned the area in front of him. There was no light, but he had nocturnal vision and that served him well. He wandered through the rooms, white sheets were draped over everything, and a single opened window let a breeze it. That stirred the sheets, giving them the impression of life as if ghosts stirred gentled under there.

Whispers. Whispers. Soft laughter chortled in the high-ceiling room. Gabriel swung through the rest of the rooms. He remembered when the house was full of life, lights and gaiety. Those fanciful parties from the 1800s, gloved ladies would flirt shyly behind fans. Tail-coated men would smoke cigars and drink their brandy. Time then was much slower. Things appeared much simpler. Even then, lies still blackened society. However, the lies were more subtle, more hidden, and presented the dark side of humanity? But does each story not?

Bodices. Laces. Floral-scented bodies pressing against his stony form. Soft lips. Tiny wasp waists. Oh, come to bed with us, Monsieur Gabriel. Come with us.

The vampire broke the surface of his memories. I will not three hundred years drag me down or out. That time period is long gone. It will never come back. His hand gripped the smooth railing of the grand staircase. Before he had set one foot on the steps, a pair of candles slowly lit his ascend. The faint plunking of the piano drifted downward towards him.

"So you're still here?" Gabriel asked. "I can't believe no one came to find you." The intensified pain surfaced from his dead, shriveled heart. He half-ran up the stairs, tripping over his feet. His eyes were wide, wild and darted all over. The stairs seemed to spiral around and around and around. The vampire bumbled to the top and dragged himself down a stretched hallway. He pressed his hands against the walls to guide him. The music became louder and louder. He recognized the song. . It was Pachelbel Canon in D. He sighed.

He slowly turned the brass knob and opened the door.

Wide, gray eyes peered sadly at him from across the room. Her waist-length, auburn hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her plump lips trembled and parted to form solemn words. Her pale hands rested on the ivory keys and bare feet touched the brass pedals. She turned her upper body and the chains that shackled her neck, wrists and ankles jingled.

"W-where's my dollie?" she croaked.

"I could not find it," Gabriel murmured. HE strode past the stares of the dolls that lined the walls and ignored the floating, revolving mirror. Gabriel embraced the woman and kissed the top of her head. He tucked a loose of strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand brushed the side of his face and smiled softly.

"What are you doing here? Why are you not cuddling with that blonde-thing?" Her voice dropped to a husky, low tone that was not far from being threatening. Her eyes hardened and gazed at him inquiringly.

"She—she." Gabriel sighed.

"I told you she would run away." She gave him the I-told-you-so look.

"But—"

"Next time, pick a stronger-willed maiden to blood," she chided.

"We cannot unravel the fabrics of time, Rowan," Gabriel murmured. He was sulking like a child.

Rowan struck him on the forehead with two fingers. "_You_ are scolding me for wrong-doing?"

The vampire visible winced and slid the woman over. He took a seat next to her on the bench. He took her hands and folded them back into her lap. His spidery fingers touched the warm black and white keys. His fingers flew smoothly across the keys and played his melody.

"Palace in the Snow composed by Mitsuko," he said. He closed his eyes and immersed himself into the music and the warmth that emitted off of Rowan. Body warmth, not personality wise. Her voice softly hummed the notes to the piece. Gabriel removed his right hand and allowed to Rowan to play the treble staff. The last note hung sweetly in the air.

"Very nice," she commented.

"I know," he answered smugly.

"Silly rabbit, _tricks_ are for kids," Rowan snickered.

He merely gave her a blank look.

"Commercial…cereals…rabbit...Oh never mind!" she said. "You have yet to explain to me why you are here. If you do have my doll…GET OUT!"

An invisible fishing hook yanked at Gabriel's shirt. He shook his head and placed a finger against the hollow of her throat.

"Rowan…he never came back for you…"

The woman shrugged. She answered that it was alright. Loneliness hardens the heart until very few things could pain one anymore.

"That bastard," he spat. Rowan threw her head back and laughed.

"That is nothing to be angry about," she said. There was a disgusted look on his face, it twisted his Adonis façade into something monstrous. His fingers pinched both sides of collar and it broke quite easily. The metal slid off cleanly and landed on the floor with a clunk. He bent over and did the same to the wrists and ankles cuffs.

"Don't—I spent years trying to off these and you come along and just—" she started to rambled off and her voice rose several octaves. Gabriel swept the woman off of her seat and swung his leg over the bench to escape. He sighed softly and walked towards the mirror. The gilded glass halted and faced them.

A dark-haired man stared back to them. His eyes twinkled and shimmered like blue topazes. There were wrinkles around his eyes that softened his grand smile with pearly white teeth. He donned a white collar shirt with black buttons and there were minor ruffles on his collars and sleeves. He wore a heavy outer coat with brass buttons and loops. He wore knee-length trousers with high white stockings. His hair was tied back into a miniscule ponytail. He had not bothered with the disgusting powdered wig that seemed to be in fashion those days.

A buxom _woman_ was standing behind him to the right. It was a cobalt blue gown of the seventh century with rectangular neckline and slimming waistline. It was made from a silk dupioni and had Venice lace on the ruffle at the elbow and underskirt. Her hair was piled high, swept to one side and spread out like a feather or a fan. She had a pensive expression with a touch of curiosity.

The man shifted to the right and a frown obscured his smile. He mouthed words that Gabriel could into comprehend. The woman gazed solemnly at Rowan and reached forward with a hand. Rowan mimicked the gesture. Their hands touched cold glass and they sighed simultaneously. They echoed doom.

"Idiot," the man growled. "Look at the mess you have made!"

"I—", Gabriel started.

"There are no excuses! Look at what you have done to that poor girl! You blooded the maiden, let her run and she is reeking havoc upon your unsuspecting city…As your fledging, you assume full responsibilities for whatever your charge does—" the man continued. His body shook with rage and he curled his upper lip back to expose dangerous, sharp canines, incisors and whatever teeth were left to name.

"Find her. Rein her in. Save her, Gabriel. Save both of them," the _woman_ whispered.

"Or else—The Council is not a forgiving state of body. As your modern people put it: 'Don't screw it up!'"

"Sssh! Language, Monsieur!" The woman turned her back and returned to the party. The man followed suit. The sound of laughter and a cello lingered.

"Don't you just _adore_ talking to yourself?" Rowan muttered.

"Yah—was I that rude of a jackass?" Gabriel asked innocently.

"Worse—a black-coated gentlemen," she rolled her eyes to the sky.

"Ah, yes. The Ladies," he grinned. "Oof!" Rowan elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

He carried her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The candles went out two by two. The parlor door swung open and they walked out together with one set of footprints. A ray of light penetrated through the jolly clouds and shone like a spotlight.

"Hallelujah", he echoed. Wince. A flock of pigeons sprang out of the canopies.

And the camera took in the sunset. New pen…

Rowan bent down to stroke the petals of the tiger lily. She smiled and plucked an arm full to carry with her.

"Are you sure we're not lost?" she looked up at Gabriel who leaned casually against a tree.

"We're just taking a break," he lied.

"We're lost," Rowan sighed. Never trust someone who resembles a porn star. She roes to her feet and stepped into the center of the meadow. Light cascaded down the yolky sun and illuminated her skin. It was chalky white, even paler than Gabriel's. It was not unattractive though. Her face soaked in the rays; she let out a soft "ah" at the wonderful warmth.

Gabriel stood behind her a few feet away. His eyes widened as the light made Rowan's hair glow like a deep, crimson fire. His dark eyes traveled down and could see every detail of her body underneath the flimsy nightgown. His muscles tensed and it felt like his chest was compressed. He stood there, transfixed by beauty. His throat felt itchy and dry, his stony form leaned forward for her…for her. He bolted like a scare deer in headlights.

"Idiot", Rowan muttered. "He should have fed before coming here." She sat down on the mossy forest floor and stared down at her bouquet. Already patches of brown began to touch the petals. They are wilting, she thought.

A silence. No birds, no wind, no sound of breathing. The moss beneath her hardened. The lilies withered into a muddy brown and crumbles into dirt in her arms. The vegetation around her died and the world's smallest violin played. Let us insert evil, maniacal laughter and dark, ominous clouds that are back for a second laugh. A torrent of flames towered over Rowan and glared at her with emerald eyes. She clung to her nightgown and stared into the eyes with frozen horror. The fire tickled at her throat, her hairs; it ate up the flesh of the living, blackens the pure, and leaves an empty husk, she opened her mouth to scream, but her jaw was dislocated and her voice was too dry from agony.

Someone nudged her ribs. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at a pair of sapphire eyes. "Oh", she exclaimed softly.

"I can hear the piano playing," Gabriel murmured softly.

"Love scene part deux," Rowan giggled. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Gabriel grabbed her arm and flung her form onto his back. She wrapped arms around his neck and her thighs clamp his ribs.

"I eat couilles for breakfast, you know", Rowan said politely.

"Oh? What do they taste like?" he asked. They were off. A power couple streaked into the forest.

"Like buttuh!" she said mockingly. "I enjoy a fresh pair, ya' know?"

"I will keep that in mind", Gabriel chuckled darkly.

"Yay! It was funny!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

It seemed like hours. The sun had long set and Gabriel got them lost. _Again._ Rowan continued with her random, raunchy thoughts. _Again_. They both ended up arguing. _Again._ Boy, a few centuries, and neither of them have their hard-headedness.

"You filthy, bloody-sucking leech," Rowan would screeched into the vampire's sensitive ear.

"Shuddap, you nubile load of a Kiyohime," Gabriel would retort back with a mock Italian accent.

Sigh. Sigh. Tragedy lost to comedy that lost to romance that to a drama. Let us stir away from here. I pity their futures.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Lingering Here

Lucia sat alone in the café, reading a book in her hands. She was in her own little corner where no one seemed to notice and was just too disturbed by her presence. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a regal ponytail. She pulled at the wrinkles of her turtleneck and tapped her manicured nails impatiently on the table. Her mouth twisted into a thin, hard grimace. I hate them all, she growled. Her fingers dug into the wood, _crack_, and left finger-sized imprints on the edge of the table.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her paperback novel. Another sigh and she studied the whorls of the wooden surface of the table. A growl rumbled from the depths of her chest and blocked out the voices of the people around her. Pointless, pointless chattering! So many pulsing veins—so hungry. The back of her throat ached and she licked her plump lips for emphasis. Damn, I forgot to feed earlier. Hmm, it would not be hard to kill them off. She eyed the nearest person and calculated her menu. Now who shall be the _plat de principal_?

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you all right?" a soft voice asked, politely tapped on her shoulder.

"What?" she barked hoarsely. Her dark eyes lashed at the man's. To her surprise, they were a tawny shade. He in response widened his eyes at hers.

"Sorry I just—," he choked on the words, struck by her dazzling beauty. Damn, even mad, she is hot!

"Is there anything you want?" she asked, regaining her composure.

"Well—I", the young man started to sweat and glisten under the strobe lights. Or perhaps it was just the fact that he was bundled up in a beanie, scarf and a thick sweater of some sort. "I was wondering if could draw you?"

"Go right ahead. Nothing's stopping you." This should be amusing, she thought.

"At—at my apartment?" Silence. Lucia considered it. A free meal and I would have to overexert any energy. She shrugged to his question. She rose to her feet and glided out the door, leaving her novel behind. The man's eyes flickered to the dents of the edge of the table and then to the blonde-haired vampiress waiting outside.

"Damn," he managed to say.

The elevator was out of order so the pair had to trek up half a dozen flights of stairs. The apartments made not a peep. The lights above them sputtered on and off. By the time they go up to the last floor, the male was obviously looking out of shape. They walked down the empty hall. He jostled his keys in his pocket and opened the door to his apartment. He kicked off his shoes and tore his scarf and beanie hat from himself. Lucia stepped hesitantly inside. She looked around for the man, but he was no longer in the living room. She walked past the broken air conditioner and other scraps that lay scattered on the floor.

There were three rooms: one was the living room that joined the tiny kitchen, one bathroom and one bedroom. Now the bedroom held a twin-sized bed with a mound of plaid blankets on top. There was a wooden desk shoved neatly into a corner, a window with moth-eaten curtains and an easel with a half-sketched drawing. Tiny jars of water paint were toppled over and tubes of acrylic pain were closed with a dried pain crust on the cap.

Lucia edged closer to the easel and traced the outline with her finger. The door closed behind her. His round, tawny eyes gazed at her with a touch of sadness. The sadness made his eyes like liquid and seemed to melt like butter. The vampiress's cold mask cracked.

"I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Jack Bromnal," he said.

"Jack, you drew this?" Lucia inquired softly.

"Yep. She's a work in the making," he answered proudly.

"You draw like someone I know," she whispered.

"And _you_ look like someone I know," he said. He quickly bit his tongue. "Err—let's get started. Sit over there, please." He pointed to the bed. Lucia sighed and plopped down at the foot of the bed. The young man pulled up a stool to the easel and rotated his easel so that it faced him. He twisted the cap off of the acrylic paint tubes and squeezed some of the colors he needed onto a Dixie paper plate. He looked around for his set of brushes and found them soaking for a little too long in the water.

"Damn," he muttered. He dried them on paper towels, glanced at Lucia who had a placid expression. His number 12 brush picked up a little brown and white and he began. The digital clocked blinked minutes away. Lucia sat there as motionless as a statue and just as perfect. Slowly an image was being done. It was to be golden-brown shades so that it looked antique.

Lucia broke the silence, wrinkling her nose at the nauseating scent of paint in a nearly enclosed room. "Tell me about yourself." Distract yourself so you do not see me sneak behind you and end your life, she thought at the same time.

"Well…I was born in Ireland in the seven-zeros. My mother, Rebecca had died giving birth to me. My father was a purveyor of store goods and we lived as best as we could. My father never gotten over the death of my mother and sometimes I felt that he was blaming me with his eyes. School was a distant dream for me; I didn't give a damn about education. I spent my days hanging about the roughest-looking boys of the bunch. I stood out like a sore thumb. A tulip in a bouquet of cosmos. But we drank, we brawled. Laughter. Laughter. It was not hall monitors gone bad. No. No. We were brothers. Simple as that. I was the happiest kid in the world.

Then my father disappeared. They said he had ridden to Italy. He never came back. So then I was left alone. I ran through the stores through my teenage years to put food into my stomach. Mooching off of the guys didn't seem right. I was considered a _good_ boy, but good boys are sometimes the weakest—and nuns, toughness…you know that masculinity crap. I wore a continuous smile through my days. Why I kept on smiling, I did not know. It seemed like a better option than frowning. Smiling work less facial muscles than frowning.

Over the years, my friends died one by one whether it from disease, fighting, starvation, and whatnot. I wallowed in a pit of ooze, metaphorically. So I sold my father's hop and set out on my own as an impressionist artist as my cover, but that did not last long. I found myself wandering all over Europe and that was when I met my teacher. He found me half-dead on the cobble-stone roads and downwind from a pile of horse manure.

His name was Gabriel Mazelli and was a real father-figure to me. He easily towered over people at that time and had a face of the angel. I did fall in love with him, but somehow I knew he would laugh at me if I spilled out my passion. Anyways…he taught me about love, life, art, and _food_. 'Always show manners to the ladies', he would repeat as I could forget! We spent many months in Italy and France. Whatever city we left, we were sure to leave a trail of awes and adorations behind us. There always seemed to be some rich lady or gentlemen throwing a party and no party would be complete without us! I love him, truly I did. Did I repeat myself? Yes…I…did. _Love_ has no gender. It was a pure innocent thing. If all was fair in love and war and war spared no one, women, children, or men, than why not love?

Dundundun. My heart finally opened up to someone else! I met her at one of Baroness Suzanna's galas…balls…overly extravagant shindigs. It was a masquerade theme, if I remember correctly. Many dolled-up and pinched bodies lined up against the wall. Some of them were so powdered heavily so I could have sworn it was icing!" Laughter. A shuffle on the mattress.

"She wore this beautiful gown of some design I could not identify, then and now. It was the shade of blue bells. Her hair was about the same shade of yours except it seemed more ethereal. Oh—yes! And the same gray eyes. She wore this simple black mask with a silver outline and feather that stuck out. The mask seemed fit for a man than a woman. I stepped forward and offered to dance with her. She smiled coyishly and accepted. One: it was not proper for a lady to dance with the same man thrice, and two: it was proper for the gentleman to ask first. Standard behavioral rules, you see. We were inseparable. I was shocked to find that she was only twelve! Twelve! I mentally whipped myself to keep my thoughts pure as they can be.

But by then, it was already too late. We both sank deeper into the darkness and I held her hand all the way. Then my teacher passed away. He had been quartered and his remains were burned. I was barely fazed by it. I felt incredible guilt about it later on. That good one left his fortunes to us though. So we lived as siblings in his manor. Rowan tended to stare at me for a long, long time without blinking. It was mildly disturbing. She was studying me and waiting for something. Finally she blossomed into a young woman. Oh, suitors would from far and wide to woo her, but first they had to get through _me_.

I guarded Rowan with a deep jealously. I would try to cast threats or pranks on the unfortunate cur to scare them off. There was one that was rather persisting so I had to take care of him. Outsiders saw it brotherly love, but it was so much more. I lusted deeply for her. She was mine and only mine. She placed some distance between us from then on. I asked why was she avoiding me and she replied, 'You smell like death, brother'.

I came down with pneumonia soon after. The doctor could not find a cure for it. He tried bleeding with leeches or gorging of milk that left me constipated. He said all he could do was make my last days comfortable. My _sister_ hovered about me through and through. I pleaded with her to go away so she would not catch it, too. She always answered 'No' and shoved porridge into me. Maids came into feed, bathe and redress me. My mind was frying like an egg on hell. Rowan mused that Hell was a great breakfast café. 'You could make pancakes on the ground', she said. This is how people in the desert die. They do not _dehydrate_, but rather they broil to death.

I had taken a turn for the worst. I spewed up everything that went down into my stomach. She was still there. 'The moon is full tonight,' she said. 'Would you like to see?' I could barely hear her. Did someone stuff my canals with cotton? I believed I babbled incoherently because of the delirium.

When the curtains were drawn back and the moonlight shone into the bedroom, I was terrified. Rowan casted a shadow when she loomed over me. He gray eyes was serpent-like, the pupils were narrowed to a thin lie. Her skin rippled and the illusion of pale snake scales shimmied and faded. In her right hand was a syringe filled with some kind of solution. The needle glinted maliciously in the light. Rowan stabbed me in the jugular vein with it and injected the liquid into my system.

The next few days after that, I felt even worse than before. It was like first-degree burns that crept under your skin and could not be cooled ice, medicine or leeches. After that, I got better. I was stronger than ever and I wound up demolishing my room to pieces. Rowan got mad at me for that. Heheh. I did not need to eat or sleep ever again. I just paced across my replacement bedroom like a cage animal. The rumors escalated over the years. The servants whispered words of black magic; they were suspicious of my lack of sleep and appetite, but also my appearance. My flesh was icy-cold and my body was white marble. Witch's child, they would whisper. Demon. Incubus. Slave to the Devil. Perhaps he was the devil himself? Vampire. The last word struck a sound chord. Vampire. Was that what I had become?

To escape, I sold everything and paid everyone. I gathered all the money and with Rowan, sailed to America under the name of my teacher. It was quite easy. We took a train that zoomed at a mind-boggling forty miles per hour. Hahaha. We found a Victorian house deep in the woods. We bought it as soon as it was complete. There were minimal questions from the neighbors. We lived.

I felt detached from my body. I woke up sometimes in a place I did not know or could I move or say anything. I felt divided in the recesses of mind; one part was blocked off entirely. I was becoming two different people. I plunged into the black oozing pool. Pressure crushed me from all side and was suffocated. This was not the feathery pillow smothering. It was like someone forcing me to swallow bleach. Truly, truly painful. Welcome Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde!

We had sold our souls to the devil. Rowan did it out of free will to save me. And I did it because I was afraid. I could have fought against the process until my body died from the stress. But…could it have been accidental? She would have no way of knowing that the deal with a two-edged sword. Or did she?" Jack sighed in relief and leaned back. He put down his paper plate and brush. "I think we are done here. Excuse me—Miss? Miss?"

Lucia was gone. The covers on the bed were scattered about and little wet drops dotted the floor. He scratched his head in confusion and wondered where she went. Jack shrugged and rose to his feet. His walked into the living room and switched the television on. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed Yum-Yum ramen from out of the cabinet. He then fetched a kettle and filled in with sink water. He set the kettle on the tiny stove and turned the knob into high. He grabbed the ramen bowl on his way back to the living room. What he saw on the tellie froze his innards.

The headlines flashed "Vampire Alert" with an intro of cheesy news music. A green-eyed man in police uniform was speaking. "These individuals are considered extremely dangerous and will kill on sight. They have already murdered a dozen people including three police officers." Pictures would flash on screen than went away. "If you run into them, KILL or die trying. Humans will not be able to outrun them. Humans will not able to kill them with a gun. Call 911 if you spot them outside your window." Jack's laughter turned into a snortle. "They will only appear at night so lock your doors and bar your windows. We will attempt to starve them out of hiding." The reporters flashed camera light bulbs, they smacked questions into the officer's face, and there was an air of skeptism and fear. This will end like the Salem Witch Trials.

_BOOM!_ The books on the sofa slid off onto the floor. The television exploded and emitted glass and sparks. His body shuddered and the man broke into sons. They will not find my dark former self, not with Rowan to hide them. I refuse to go back into the darkness that void. His thoughts circulated in circles.

The man hardened his expression, the tears dried up like the Red Sea. He strode from the couch to his bedroom, his intent clear. Jack held no malice towards the auburn-chaired woman-child. He gave no vengeance to his counterpart. He merely wanted answers. The first time, I had woken up, the world was such a strange place, he thought. It was the near end of the twentieth century. He was so excited, but frightened at the same time. Vehicles zoomed past 30 mph, woman dressed in scandalously revealed clothing and colored television! Ah yes! Jack adored television the first few years. HE was practically addicted to children's cartons. He had grown and then some.

After awhile, the sinking feeling came again. The months rolled by and rumors of mysterious murders came about and he was dissolving. It took all the concentration he had to pull his molecules together. He stared at the large gilded mirror that hung near his bed and scowled at his reflection. Bright, tawny eyes gazed back with mute sadness. The reflection nodded and gestured up with an index finger. Jack bore a puzzled expression. The reflection gave him an exasperated look. The reflection ceased to carry on its own and imitated its master. Jack's fist contacted with glass and shivered out of pain. Blood streamed down from his hand to his elbows. The glass shards flew apart from the spider web. The melted and dripped downwards like liquid mercury from the wall, his flesh and the gilded frame. Jack withdrew his hand and studied the wound. Hs his hand to his mouth and licked the wound. Revolting. The man gagged and spat out the blood. Vampires. Demons. Bloody bastards that do not give a damn if people died as long they got their jobs done. His tawny eyes glanced at the painting that he had done.

"Rowan…are you happy?" Jack asked the air. "I won't bother you if you are."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: A Paler Lie Still

A man carrying a black umbrella in eighty degree weather seemed strange. People would gawk at him and whisper amongst themselves. However, the strangest thing was the barefooted girl dressed in a Victorian-styled nightgown. The woman-child was oblivious to the people and solely concentrated on the man beside her. The man glanced down at her with Gucci sunglasses that were pushed up his nose. He arched an eyebrow and prodded the female into submission so she would finally agree to go into a boutique.

"Ow! Quit it!" the girl growled, rubbing her bruised arms.

"You look conspicuous," Gabriel pointed out. The auburn-haired female snorted and folded her arms across her chest.

"I am not the one donning a turtleneck and coat in this weather," Rowan retorted.

"Yellow scarf too much?" he inquired innocently. The female did a glance over of a boutique closest to them and wrinkled her nose at the selection.

"These are absolutely putrid!" Rowan held up a pink, poofy dress that was smothered with cheap beads.

"Fine, fine. We will go elsewhere." The vampire shook his head and politely opened the door. They both exited "Marie's" under the shadow of the umbrella. "That one looks decent."

"Meh" would he Rowan's answer. They would go from shop to shop even JCPenny and Wal-Mart. Many miles the pair walked and finally the female stopped, then him. The female threw up her hands and cried "Alright, alright! I get it!"

"Get what?" Gabriel asked.

"We'll just go in and pick something! There! Happy?" she shrieked.

The vampire cracked a smile. "How are your feet?" he inquired.

"Uggh—blisters!" she whined.

"Alright, alright," Gabriel opened the door for her; she stepped into the store and went rummaging.

The owner of the wee shop followed Rowan around like a shadow, picking up and rehanging clothing that the auburn-haired female had thrown onto the floor. Gabriel stood near the fitting room which was no more than a small area closed off by a red, spotted curtain. He had folded his umbrella and pondered. Oh, the hapless chatter of women.

"Ah-ha!" Rowan exclaimed. "Perfecto!" The girl strutted out of the fitting room, sporting a black sleeveless turtleneck that strangely resembled a vest with a zipper and silver outlines. Her hips were snug in elegantly studded jeans from a company named "Apple Bottom." Her blistered feet were adorned with onyx ankle boots that had plenty of gel pads and other comforts inside. Crimson-tinted glasses popped out like too-bright cherry lipstick.

"Ha! Hahahaha!" the vampire bursted out laughing.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he answered innocently. "You are wearing panties, right?"

"What are 'panties'"? Rowan asked.

Gabriel had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing further. He handed a small roll of bills to the owner and left the shop with his lady. He reopened his umbrella and the pair traveled on.

"Why do you not use those plastic cards things?" she asked.

"Those are traceable," he answered. "So, are you hungry? When was the last time you have eaten?" The pair was on the outskirts of the city.

"I do not remember. I have been meaning to try an uhh—Philly cheese steak," she answered, her stomach growling.

"Extra onions?" Gabriel teased. "Hey! No pinching!"

Snickers.

The pair made a round-trip back to the plaza and spotted "Reggie's" The little restaurant had a clear window up front so customers could see the fresh cuts of beef sizzling in their juices on the grill. The cook would let the onions grill and then he would scoop the beef and onion with his flat spatula onto a roll. He would smother the roll with melted slices of Monterey Jack cheese.

"Order up," the cook would say as he pushed forward a paper bowl.

Rowan relentlessly stabbed her companion in the ribs and pointed at the window. The vampire would laugh mirthfully.

The next thing, you knew, the late 18th century lady was gobbling the roll up with quick and but dainty bites. Burp. Laughter. Smack in the hand. Ow!

"Gabriel, get a damn car or something!" she pouted.

"Your idea of a car would something zooming at a _dangerous_ 35 mph!" he snapped.

"Cars are polluting the atmosphere! Your scientists state 'global warming'!"

"The human population has sky-rocketed in the past two hundred years."

"I have noticed. Rats crammed into a cardboard box."

"The amount of CO2 released into the atmosphere is good for the vegetations on Earth."

"What vegetation is left?"

"Good point. So the, I quote 'CO2' has nowhere to go, but up?"

"You are correct."

Snort. "People these days think it is more dangerous to have a horse's gas in the air that dirty, black exhaust fumes from automobiles."

"Petroleum or methane?" Laughter. Two voices joined in laughter. It was not free laughter. There was some tension, some sadness buried underneath. Harharhar. Hahaha. Sarcastic.

How big was this city? The answer is "big". It was even bigger than New York City. It was the perfect place to play hide-and-seek. We all live on an ant farm.

It was late afternoon. The traffic has started to pick up. The people started to slow down. Gabriel continued walking with his umbrella His pretty companion has a peculiar expression on her face. She was not entirely there. Rowan the blind, he her guide dog.

"I will meet up with you later, Gabriel," she said wistfully.

"Where are you going," he inquired, but she was gone. He scanned his surroundings 360 degrees and yet he could not catch a whiff of her scent. "Magick," he sighed.

He strolled down twenty-second street and watched the world pass him by.

"Mama! Mama! Look at the man wif the funny umbwella!" a child chirped, pointing at Gabriel. A worn-out mother shushed her son and hurried him along.

A brown Pomeranian puppy bounced ecstatically about, yanking at her leash while her owner lounged lazily reading a newspaper. Dark, violet eyes flickered to the front page of the newspapers and read the bold, mocking words "Vampire Plague! They Are Among Us!"

His steps quickened until he was half-running madly down the street, his umbrella was threatened to be ripped away from its owner's hand. Rowan! Rowan! Her name pounded in his head. Where is she? She-she is in danger! Damn it! Damn it! I cannot even keep a woman in sight! His violet eyes danced wildly and his thoughts grew more distressing. Slowly the face of Lucia faded away and was replaced by Rowan as so his heart. Even if they shared the same shade of eyes, similar faces…bodies. His thoughts drifted like a cumulus cloud.

Clusters of people were scattered about. Whispers of voices admired this, criticized that. The sign outside had read "Grand Opening of Madrona's Gala." It was a place for amateur artists to show their work. Rowan slithered about, snorting in disgust at many of the works.

Her gray eyes caught the sight of a table full of hors d'œuvre. She squealed with delight and took a nibble of everything. She headed over to a growing crowd towards one end of the building, holding a martini glass of habanero-stuffed olives. Rowan popped one of the olives into her mouth and choked at the unexpected fieriness of the pepper. She ran back to the food table, grabbed a bottle of bubbly and chugged it down to kill the heat. It worked—sort of. The red-faced, throat-scalded woman-child returned to the massive crowd and stood way in the back with the bottle of champagne. A few people threw comments at her "unlady likeness", but were silence by a flushed face and iridescent eyes with slitted pupils. With a soft humph, Rowan glided her way through the crowd and gasped at the man standing a stark white wall.

The man was about six foot three with mahogany hair that had sheen in the light and round tawny eyes that held such sadness and an empty smile. Cameras and bulbs flashed and seemed to blind the man because his eyes were slightly glazed over. A stocky man in a seersucker suit came up to the man and shook his hand vigorously.

"And now! We reveal the work of our new prodigy, Jack Bromnal," the stocky man announced.

The white sheet was pulled off of the framed painting. A roar of applaud stung her ears. It was done in gold, tan and white hues. On the canvas, the face was angled turned so that only three-fifths shown. There was a soft, gentle smile on the woman's lips, her eyes were half-closed as if she did not want to sleep and leave this world just yet. Her hands cupped the blossom of a white rose. The figure sat with her legs bent to the side and right shoulder touching the glass panel of the window. The woman in the picture vaguely resembled her. Jack, why are you here? You should have moved on, Rowan thought sadly.

As if Jack had heard her thoughts, his eyes met hers and they melted into each other. The dormant bond was reawakened and no amount of darkness would blithe the way. His expression shifted from tolerance to surprise. His mouth dropped open and his face was absolutely adorable.

The female slowly backed away, shoving the bottle of bubbly into a random someone's arms. The air around her contorted and ripped around her as she made her way out of the building and was about to shimmer away when someone grabbed her arms and whisked her around.

Tawny-honey eyes melted all resistance. Who says the past never comes back to nip you in the butt? Strong, warm hands shocked her back to the situation at hand.

"Jack? What? Why? How?—you doing here?" she squeaked. "You were supposed to move on…"

"Well, obviously, I did not," Jack said tartly. "I was shoved away for awhile..."

"What?" Her voices shrieked a few octaves. "That was not part of the—"

"Part of the—?" he asked.

"It is to be remain unsaid."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No!"

"_Tell me!_"

And the argument went on; it was amusing watching a ping-pong ball be paddled back and forth. Eventually, people started to notice and the new pair had to take it elsewhere. Jack trailed after Rowan like a show and wrapped his fingers around hers.

"Please…tell me, Lady Green sleeves," he pleaded.

"I—it's better that you do not know such knowledge. You will sleep better," Rowan smiled.

"Why you have to be like that?" Jack muttered.

"Be like—?" she arched an eyebrow.

"Motherly. Selfless," he answered.

"I am perfectly capable of evil," Rowan retorted.

"Jack gave her _the look_. Her tugged her along and patted the leather seat of his black motorcycle with silver wings on both sides. He swung his leg over the front and smooshed his tresses into his helmet. With a sigh, the female followed suit, getting comfortable on the bitch seat. The man kicked the motorcycle into gear and took off, slowly shifting into second. Rowan hung on for dear life, her embrace was a bear hug that crushed his ribs that in turn poked his lungs. They zoomed through the shopping district and into the warehouse. Shortcut was what he said. They passed the burnt warehouse that was sealed off by yellow tape—the salty, wet docks and dove past the entrance to the red light district.

The pair reached the ghetto area, half a dozen shabby floors bowed and the building flashed nicotine-stained teeth with cheap jewels. Copies of the apartments dotted the streets and a liquor store flashed its gaudy, neon side. Jack squeezed the brakes and turned the bike off. He slid off his seat and scooped Rowan off by her waist.

"Hopefully they fixed the elevator," he muttered. A low hiss came from her teeth, she felt it. This suffocating aura.

"Rowan?" he asked, waiting by the open lift. She walked into the life and tasted the air for any other anomalies.

The dark-haired man pushed one of the buttons and whistled Green sleeves as the lift creaked and groaned up the floors.

"Forgiving," the woman-child said.

Sigh. "You did what you hat to do. You loved me—err him, yes?" Jack inquired.

"I still do" was her reply. Where did that topic come up? The light overhead flickered and matched those in the hallway. The gears grinded to a halt and the metal doors opened. They walked out together and headed toward 27-C. Jack's keys jingled in his pocket and even more so when they slid into the keyhole.

The apartment was neat as neat as a garage can be. Jack sped into the kitchen and started to heat up a bowl of gnocchi. Rowan politely slipped off her boots and sunk onto the couch.

"So tell me—," he prodded, carrying of potato dumplings in a white sauce.

"No amount of bribery will work. Besides I have marinara in my veins," she answered, slightly offended by the sauce.

"Fine. Just explain to my, why are we stuck in this time loop. I mean—the world has obviously on, but why haven't we?"

"Because—"she said carefully. "The story is not complete and until it's done—more and more chaos will occur. Essentially, the _safety measure_ is trying to give us a wake-up call.

"Hmm," Jack commented thoughtfully, rolling a gnocchi around in his mouth.

"Shall I start on process of vampirism or the severing of the soul?" Rowan said flatly.

"Both weave them into a story," he said with mock awe. "A tale of blood and chocolate."

The female stole a dumpling before starting. "Vampirism is a virus that needs a living host to manifest. If a vampire drains his or her victim of their blood then the virus will die. However, they are those who are considered lucky to have survived a vampire's bite and the virus travels throughout the human system and painfully—painfully—the human system tries to combat the foreign germ and—"

"But you used a syringe on me—him—is," Jack injected.

"I used a pure strain of the virus which came at a heavy price. The virus mutates from vampire to vampire and how the vampire's fledgling's strengths will develop varies. However a pure strain holds potent possibilities on its own. Why do you think no one has been able to bring down your counterpart?"

"And the soul—"

"I'm getting there! The myth that vampires do not have souls. True to—"

"What?"

"Let me continue—the myth is true to an extent. When a person becomes a vampire, their soul is _supposed_ to depart. For human souls cannot dwell inside a dead body. A vampire only has an impression of a soul and still retains his or her memories. Over time, the vampire body recreates a soul through actions, words, etc. that is darker and more suited to a vampire's body. Why do you think new vampires go wild, eh?" Rowan stole gnocchi.

Jack stared at the female, dumbfounded. She met his expression with an arched brow.

"In theory, you are held to this plane by an emotion—in your case, fear—mine guild, Gabriel by sadness and Lucia—well, I simply don't give a damn," she muttered.

"Gabriel?" Jack laughed. "Is that the alias he fashioned for himself? Ironic."

"So in conclusion, "she continued, "you two only share two decades of memories and then branch off from there. Two people."

"Oh" was all Jack said. The digital clock blinked ten-sixteen. He rubbed his eyes and placed the empty bowl on the coffee table

"Are you tired?" Rowan asked. He gave her a nod and rose groggily to his bedroom. "Don't forget to brush your teeth," she said quietly. The female removed her red-tinted glasses and stared tirelessly at the night sky. There was no moon to illuminate the city and no light to illuminate the darkness of the world.

Where was our Shepard? Mourn and live, we blind lams. Why was Lucia the only one allowed to move on? But, it did not matter that was she reincarnated into a new life, she was dragged into this anyways. There is an outside force at work besides the four of us.

She sighed softly and walked the length of the hallway into Jack's bedroom. She unzipped her shirt and jeans, tossing them aside. She slid under the covers and snuggled beside Jack who was already asleep.

"Angel—" she heard the sleeping man murmur.

"Trust me…I am no angel" was her reply.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Daydreams

The blonde femme fatale sat quietly in her cell—manacles of bewitched silver bound her wrists and ankles. Her hair hung limp like a cat's yarn ball and so did the rest of her. Her eyes were dull and dark as the void with shadows that hung under her eyes. Lucia resembled a raccoon with a taste for blood than garbage. She was hugging her knees and rocked back and forth—wrinkling her nose at the scents of decaying rodents and other things that were far too decomposed to identify.

A little slot on the metal door slid open and the spot of light momentarily blinded the female. She coiled away from it and spit a hiss at the emerald eyes that peered in.

"Such a shame—you were a fine human—to be turned into _that_," the cold, velvety spoke with mock regret. Her eyes met his and a sigh came out of nowhere.

"Hungry?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. She hissed again and heaved at the chains that bound her.

"I was being sincere, Lucia," Darian continued. The metal door swung open with a creak and a flame-haired man in street clothes walked in. In his right hand, he held a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid and in his right, a plastic pouch of blood—probably from the hospital blood bank.

Lucia stuck out her chin and glowered at the man with defiance. His emerald eyes softened and he dangled the blood bag in front of her face. Hunger proved to be the stronger beast. White hands flashed and grabbed the plastic pouch. She tore through the material with her razor teeth and guzzled the delicious crimson nectar down. It filled her, warmed her insides and left a sense of completion for the moment.

Darian watched with indifference, he wiped the trickle of blood from the vampiress's lips with his thumb. He unscrewed the little vial and inserted the syringe through the latex covering. He slowed filled the syringe with the clear liquid and pulled the needle out. He grasped Lucia's arm and injected her with a heavy dose of the _vaccine_. The female was still in a daze from the blood ecstasy and could not fill the needle puncture a nanometer into her skin. Then snap! The needle broke before the serum could get into her dried veins.

"What?" he exclaimed, growling at the broken needle. He painfully squeezed Lucia's jaw, snapped the syringe in half and poured the clear liquid down her throat. She gagged at the tingly aftertaste and tried to spit out as much of the crap as possible. The liquid slid down her throat like mucus and tickled the gag reflex.

Her body convulsed and a shine of sweat gleamed on her face. She looked like a horror mannequin. Her breathing was staggered—not that vampires needed oxygen. The body needed oxygen for speech and it _is_ uncomfortable without a sense of smell.

A warm, strong hand stroked the side of Lucia's face and soft lips murmured sleep. She brushed his hand away and retreated into a ball. Darian turned away and exited the door. The metal door swung shut and all light ceased. In the room, in her heart and in the world.

Darian strode down the brightly lit hallway—several personal in black nodded to him in greetings. There was a pair of metal doors at the end of the hallway. A pair of heavily-armed guards stood like statues on either side. Darian flashed his ID to the guards and wall allowed admission. Beyond the metal doors was another hallway—dimly lit— with a never-ending amount of doors. The metal ones closed behind him and a spark of light shuddered in the distance. He followed the light, his street clothes dissipated in a blink and was replaced a long black coat, turtleneck and pants with three red stripes running diagonally across the leg.

The ball of light hovered next to grand, wooden doors. They sung open and a room resembling an ancient court room waited. Darian stepped inside and five bodies bore their sights down on him.

"Daraniel Azuma, you are charged with fraud, illegal use of Council database, and other _heinous _crimes with mediocre reasons," said a nasal voice and it droned on and on and on. Heinous is defined as tedious—just a side note.

"Your Eminence," he politely interrupted. "I have a perfectly good excuse."

"I repeat, 'mediocre reasons'".

"Which is?" a baritone voice boomed. "A vampire and third-rate demoness."

"Your Eminence. The presence of those two upsets the balance of—" Darian began.

"There are hundreds of vampires in this world and you have enough stupidity to say that they are a threat to the big picture. That is implying that sharks are bad for ocean life," another voice resonated.

"But—"he tried to argue back.

"Sharks control fish population. Vampire control human population," the same voice concluded. Vampires were not doing a fine job, though.

"Your Eminence, I am not speaking of the generalization vampire. These two have attempted the forbidden black magic and it has backfired into a bi-soul complex with dual time—" Darian worded carefully.

Silence from the Council. I got them now, he sneered.

"You see. Gabriel and Rowan's time have long pass by several centuries. Those two have been long overdue and now the Angel of Death is trying to restore balance. How many innocents must die before they equal the lives of a vampire and demoness?"

Silence.

"You are proposing to eliminate Gabriel Mazelli and Rowan Triste then leaving Jack Bromnal and Lucia Fitzgard to take their place—therefore satisfying the conditions of Diabolus Pactum."

"Yes—"?

"We decline."

"What?"

"This is not worth the—it is exaggerated to ridiculous proportions."

Silence.

"Of course, you were summoned here for another reason. We have reviewed your current and past records and it is very disappointing. We have no choice but to revoke your surface world authority and bind your powers. You have proven to us that you have lost sight of what this duty is about…"

The Council's face faded and the floor opened up below Darian's feet. The man plunged deep into the darkness and a voice called after him," Take your prisoner, too."

Darian landed on the balls of his feet and looked around. It was Gabriel's penthouse. His face was then pressed firmly against the carpet and a moment later a body that weight like a ton of bricks fell unto his back and delivered spasms of agony and dust mites in the crevices of his teeth. Beams of sunlight shone in through the windows and lit up the living room. The ten-ton body rose to her feet and turned toward the sun. Darian groaned and managed to flop onto his side—his eyes widened.

Myth states that vampires burst into a ball of flame when in contact with sunlight. _False_. They are known cases of vampiric sensitivity to sunlight, nut not that serious to become a pile of ashes. _No._ Lucia was an angel—ish. Her ivory skin glittered like thousands of one karat diamond. An ethereal aura surrounded the vampiress and wrapped around her still form and serene smile. Pools of eyes gazed into the sun with content and a denture packed with a predator's teeth. Her hair cascaded down her scalp—the color of lemon curds. She was a Greek statue, gossamer and divine. It was a Kodak moment. Patricles discharged from her skin, they floated up the ceiling and disappeared. All that was missing was the fireflies and dusk, She turned her head towards Darian and sighed.

"I had forgotten what the sun was like. I was always afraid of what might happen when I walked into the morning. Would I cease to exist?" she murmured.

Darian was breathless . He merely gawked and perhaps dribbled some drool. Her laughter was so soft it was a child's giggle. Indeed, that was what Lucia was—a child, She slumped onto the floor and continued her expressions of awe to the other glorious sun.

"Lucia…forgive me," he uttered. Her serene face casted it glow onto him. He had to look away.

"Always," was her reply.

The radio spat out alternative rock and that kind of crap. The pounding of the guitar and drums cleared her mind very easily. She sat like a statue on the couch. Listening, always, listening. A yawn came from the hallway and Jack walked in with a pigeon's nest of hair, wearing absolutely nothing.

"Wait a minute," Rowan said. "I do not remember the sight of you taking off your pants anywhere in my memories."

"I like to boast," he smirked. "I can't help it if I'm gifted." He strolled up the hallway to find his scattered articles of clothing. The female shutted off the radio with a click and slithered into the kitchen. She wreaked havoc on it. The refrigerator was quite offended by the end of it Rowan whipped up a quick breakfast of defrosted waffles, sausage, and leftover hash. She split the remaining orange juice into two glasses and laid out forks, knives and napkin.

Jack reentered wearing a pair of brief. His hair was unjumble and no longer attracted birds and their feces. He smiled grandly and devoured everything on his plate.

"A vast improvement," she commented sarcastically.

Hmmm. The guzzling of concentrated citrus juice that claimed to be all natural.

"So…describe to me Gabriel," Jack said.

"He's an oxymoron. End of story," she turned her back to her breakfast.

"Awww…it sounds like you're mad at him or something," he reached over to devour Rowan's plate.

"You try solitary confinement for who knows how long—? She answered.

"You shouldn't be mad at him for that. I mean—I'm guessing that he was just trying to do what he thought was good for you," he argued.

"Look, I know that Gabriel always have good intentions but they backfire—" Rowan's voice dropped to a low, "horribly."

Jack slowly lowered his glass and croaked, "how?" The female glanced over her shoulder and sighed.

"I cannot tell you that," she replied.

"What? Why? I want to know!" he protested , stabbing the counter with his fork for emphasis.

"Ask Gabriel yourself," Rowan snapped. She scooped up the dished and dumped it into the sink.

"Rowan…I'm sorry," he apologized, hi tawny eyes casting their innocence at her.

"You haven't changed one bit," she grumbled, savagely scrubbing the dishes, glasses, and eating utensils under hot water.

"Have you outgrown me?" he croaked. Silence. The rushing stream of water pounded and clattered of metal forks. His face contorted with pain and he whimpered softly.

The air was thick with silence and rays of sunlight peeked in through the crack in the curtain. Jack stomped away from the counter and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The auburn-haired woman shutted off the waterand dried off her hands with a towel.

"He's still a testorone-filled child," she muttered. In the depthsof her mind, gears and shifts clicked to formulate a plan. It pieced itself together bit by bit. I have watched for too long, she thought. Rowan strode into the living room, scooped his keys off of the sofa, slipped on her shoes and went out the door.

Jack laid on his back staring at the ceiling. His brow furrowed into a frown and his lips puckered into a pout. She has outgrown me, he concluded. They had spent most of their childhood together—well hers anyways. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, frustrated. What the hell do I haveto do? Grow a foot long beard and sideburns?

Vroom. Vroom. The male sat up quickly and flung himself to the window. There was Rowan in all her siren beauty on his motorcycle?

"Fuck no!" he exclaimed, wiggling into his clothes and shoes. He opened the window and launched down the fire escape. He quickly trudged down the metal steps only to see her take off.

"Hey wait?" he yelled after her and in response, she waved. Finally he got to the bottom and threw up his hands in fury. Crap. Crap. Crap. I haven't paid off the loan yet! He kicked a nearby trashcan and sent several well-fed rats scurrying. He surveyed the area around him and saw nothing, but garages. Wait a minute—garages? Cars? Grand-theft auto? Bingo! He lifted open the nearest garage door and to his luck was a black Jaguar. He ran up to the car in glee and imitated the sliding-across-the-car-hood-move seen in many movies. Of course, also seen in the movies was the sliding-across-the-car-hood-too-far-and-went-off-the-other-side. Jack crashed into a wall with a shelf stacked with tools. A rusted piece of pipe rolled off of the shelf and barely missed his crotch by an inch. So close to being a pet eunuch! He sighed in relief and got into the driver seat. Jack reached under the dashboard and fumbled with the wires until he could start the ignition. The car coughed. Perfect. He quickly placed the car in reverse and rammed into the same kicked trash can. He sighed and began to drive forward when he smacked into another trash can. He looked around to see that he was surrounded by trash cans!

"Crap! I forgot it was Garbage Day," he cursed, slamming his forehead against the car horn. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. He painstakingly maneuvered his way out of the metal and noxious maze. His Jaguar resembled a perfectly rectangular metal contraption on wheels with a trapezoid hump. Vroom!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Trials

The vampire waited patiently in the center of the plaza. He sat on the edge of the Fountain that mad a mermaid grotesquely curled up at the top. His opal eyes concentrated fiercely on the cobblestone tiles and his forehead was pressed against his interlocked spidery fingers. The sun loomed ominously behind, but thank goodness he was in the shadows of the fountain.

"Gabriel", a familiar voice called to him. His head rose and his was half in gear to rush over, but was stopped by the sweet sadness in her gray eyes. Rowan stood several feet away from him and drew closer, her auburn hair flamed like a dark fire in the after sun—a midnight sun. She reached the darkness and sat beside him. Her slenderness was engulfed in his and was give a tight squeeze.

"you worry me," he stated the obvious.

"You worry about everyone," she amended. He flashed an empty smile and took in her expression.

"I'm blind as blind as bat, aren't I?" Gabriel humored darkly.

"Ninety percent of the time," she replied flatly.

"And the other ten percent?" he asked coolly.

"_Elsewhere_," she rumbled.

"Oh," he was sniveling like a child. Rowan sighed exasperatedly and rose.

"Gabriel—" the woman-child began to say.

"I know. I know. You always seem to know what is happening," he frowned.

"I do not mean to hide things from you—but tell me this, Gabriel. What would you do if I told you the truth? What would you do with the knowledge? Stormy gray eyes stared at him waiting for an answer.

"I—understand—your—point—I think," the vampire pronounced slowly. She nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassured him.

"I feel useless," he pouted. Snicker. She shrugged and walked into the light.

"She will be the death of me," she mouthed the words.

A little blond ball was stooped over a body twice her size. There was a faint slurping sound as if someone was enjoying a cup of noodles with relish. A final moan accompanied that. The figure straddled the dead body over to the dumpster and slashed his throat with her nail. She then covered up the body with garbage bags. Her eyes gleamed a rusted ruby. She scoffed at a shivering cardboard box in the corner and left.

Out of the box came a tattered old man with a jacket so spotted that it would not pass as a dirty dish rag. His lips quivered, his human eyes flickered to the dumpster then to himself. He cried out, staggering out of the alley and into the streets.

His hands crawled all over and grasped air. Vampire, he cried. Vampire. The body is in the alley. The body is in the alley. The civilians laughed at his ludicrousness. Civilians walked past him with a wrinkled nose. No one would listen. No one would stop. He finally staggered across a police office holding a hot dog slathered with mustard and sauerkraut.

"Officer! Officer! Pluse—dead body behind 7-Eleven!" the medicant gasped. The officer raised a skeptical eyebrow and took a bite of his hot dog.

"Slow down. Slow down. The soup kitchen is over there," the officer pointed.

"No—no. You don't understand! See! See!" the vagabond held out his bloody hands. The officer grew alarmed. He talked into his radio and the radio answered.

"Come on," the officer's voice was rough and the crowd parted for them whether out of paranoia or laissez-faire. They took a turn and went into the back of 7-Eleven. The vagabond dug the body out of the pile of garbage bag and retreated to his cardboard box.

Vampire, the wind seemed to whisper. "Sends the S.T.A.V.S," the officer said, squinting at the vicious wound on the corpse's neck.

Half an hour later, an armored van arrived. Several black-suited individual rushed past the officer and threw the corpse into a containment unit. The containment unit was loaded into the van. One of the dark-cloaked individuals pulled out a .31 mm gun and shot the officer in the back of the skulls. The officer had a lock of surprise as body slumped down onto the ground in slow-motion and his hot dog wrapper floated down. Gore and blood burst out of his cranium and a good chunk of brain landed on a dollop of leftover mustard.

The people heard the gunshot. They saw the van drove away. A crowd drew into the alley and a buxom woman screamed. The people were on full alert. In the distance, the coking of rifles riveted off the walls. The chant of "Kill, Maim, Kill" chorused doom for our main character. The gray, pot-bellied clouds floated into the cheap seats to watch the snow. Kill! Maim! Kill!

The forces were mustered. Windows and doors were barred. The roar of the battle was faint. It crescendoes louder, louder and louder! Argh! Here comes ye olden men with pitchfork, torches, and suicide bombs! Oh—god. Run Gabriel! Run Rowan! Err—hide Lucia?

They gathered in the plaza and the chant was deafening. Gabriel sat his lonesome self on the fountain, his expression pensive and spidery fingers interlocked. The crowd threw rocks at the vampire. They bounced off and formed a little pile at his feet. His sat there like a statue, unbreathing and unmoving.

The crowd grew in size and tension rippled through the people. There was an unnerving silence for who knows how long. Finally someone spoke. It was a voice from the rooftops.

"Get here! The gray-eyed witch! She killed them all!

The crowd rotated 180 degrees and narrowed on a certain auburn-haired woman. Rowan narrowed her eyes at the zombified crowd and tucked one hand behind her book. She flexed the fingers of that hand. She deeply concentrated on the circulation of her energy and felt it rushing to her fingertips. Dots of blue sparks spitted and crackled, growing larger and larger it was the size of a five pound bowling ball. It was visible underneath of onion skin.

A blonde and white streak popped out of nowhere and side-tackled Rowan to the ground. The brunette gritted her teeth as her arm and shoulder scrapped against the cobblestone pavement. Additional measures of pain were added when a ton of granite slammed into her Mach 2. She was rolled onto her back and gray eyes met white teeth that shone with something like polish. Then gray eyes met ruby eyes that were bestial rather than human.

"You're going down, bitch," Lucia snorted, curling her upper lips to emphasize big, sharp teeth.

Rowan did what she never did before. She screamed. The definitely caught the crowd's attention. The vampiress glared at the crowd. Her irises flashed gray, red, gray, red like a camera shutter.

"There she is! The witch!," cried one.

"Burn her!" demanded another.

"She'll eat the children," shouted a woman.

And the crowd digressed faster and faster. Soon there shall be an inquisition and Quakers shaking in fear. Whooo. Whooo.

The crowd descended on the two and it was a horrible dog pile. Hands grabbed Lucia and tossed her into the squirming crowd. Ross was also caught up by the people and was pushed forward. Fools climbed the fountain and knocked off the mermaid with a blacksmith's precision. The fountain was taken apart, spider web cracks spread throughout the rim of the fountain. It cracked and gallons of water gushed out like a broken bathtub. People slipped and fell due to the leaking. Some were swept away for bent judgment. The crowd bellowed and ripped wood from trees, benches and even broke into hardware shops. The people began building a bonfire just like the old days. They gasped.

Gabriel stood before the people and lo, there was the sad-eyed angel. The sun shone her ray upon his skin and his flesh reflected each molecule like a mirror. Golden particles dissipated from him as he exhaled a sigh of relief. Water drops cascaded down his bare chest and around his wrinkled, blue soulful eyes. A slight breeze ruffled his mahogany hair and unbuttoned shirt. Further beams of light struck his back and ricocheted off into multiple directions. This gave him the appearance of heavenly wings.

Silence. Inside the vampire's mind, he was frantically searching for Rowan. Damn it, where are you?

Impalpable fetters coiled around his wrists, ankles and neck. A rough yank and he collapsed onto his knees, his arms were pulled back to the point of being ripped out of its sockets and his view was stretched upwards. He grunted and tried to struggle against his captor. His chiseled muscles pulsed and strained under the push and pull, but he failed.

Screams. The burning had begun. Lucia shrieked and tried to stamp out the flames that caught her dress. Her hands were bound around an upright log that was surrounded by chunks of wood. Several men had dumped liters of gasoline onto the wood and set it a fire. Lucia's expression was one of a prey knowing its own end is at the very game that it was master of. She struggled to release herself, but apparently, there were additional forces at work here. Humans could not have possibly subdue Lucia and no woven piece of twine could be durable enough.

"Gabriel! Gabriel!" she screamed, "Help me! Help me!" She bashed her head vigorously against the fortified wood and knocked over the upper half of the log. The flames leapt and licked at her flesh, leaving ashy streaks that would not heal. Upon that stake, she ceased to be a vampire. She was a woman charged guilty of murder and was being punished. Humans and nonhumans alike can be branded _monsters_. Let all the prosecuters burn along with her.

The chains around him plummeted and the vampire was sent ricocheting like a pebble from a slingshot. He flew headfirst into a pyramid of gasoline barrels which spilled onto the burning mound and feed the flames. The vampire pounced to tear Lucia from the post, but an erupting wall of blaze that commanded distance between them

"Argh! You son of a bitch! Don't help! Don't help! Don't help!" she screeched. Her head hung in defeat. She could see nothing, but the insides of her eyelids.

She remembered how furious Gabriel was when he saw the body. He had growled her to leave. Lucia had interpreted as leave and never come back—but what if he was merely trying to save her. It was mistake after mistake. She shook the pondering away. It is too late to contemplate such things. I am so sorry, Gabriel. The poor thing was trying to cover what the roasting brat did.

The flames gorged at her eyelids and eyeballs. Her corneas sizzled and popped so that mock streams of tears ran down her withered cheeks. The voluptuous clouds glided into the scene. It began to drizzle. The rain brought temporary reprieve to the pain, but then fire would shoot back up again. The combination would be steam which is technically still a solid. The torture was continuous for it went on for who knows how long. Gabriel obviously took the vampiress's words to heart, but could he not attempt to try? This is sad. Let us just end the sadistic torment Was Lucia finally barbecued to perfection? No—she was burnt so badly that not even the blokes from Texas Chainsaw Massacre would nibble on her. The blonde female's soul went somewhere. Gabriel did not see where it went. Rowan did not see where it went. The bloodthirsty crowd did not see where it went. And the Asian girl with glasses did not see where it went. She and God are on laissez-faire terms.

So a blackened husk with pieces of clothing and skin hanging off from part of the body remained tied to the stake. Its mouth was gaping open and its rows of pearly white teeth shone.

Now the crowd came for Gabriel. He was thrown into the air and paraded around above the heads of the crowd like a mosh-pit.

"Saint Gabriel! Saint Gabriel! Saint Gabriel! He has come to deliver us from Evil!" the crowd chanted. Obviously the people misinterpreted his actions. One: he resembled as angel; two: he _flew_ into the gasoline barrels; three: the people that he was vanquishing Lucifer—Lucia! Lucia!

A few muscle-bound men separated themselves from the crowd and began taking apart the _satanic_ bonfire. The body slumped to the ground. A few fingers and toes fell off for the dogs to choke on. Of course, the _demon_ was not going to be buried in consecrated ground.

There were many sighs that were passed around. Was someone crying? Gabriel scanned the vast crowds, his mind probing the outworks of their blobby minds. Rowan, he exclaimed with his head. He found her huddled on the ground with a blonde doll. The doll had tear streaks down its porcelain cheeks. The woman-child stared silently at the ground, unaware of her surroundings.

"Rowan! Rowan! He shouted and somersaulted over the crowd. Thank goodness, there were hard-headed. There people parted and formed a circle around the pair. The people were gray, humanoid figures. Eyeless, mouthless, their forms wavered like ancient specters. The vampire cradled his love in his cold arms. He tore the doll from her hand and heaved it aside. The doll shattered into Humpty Dumpty. Rowan slowly raised her head and her eyes met his. The flames were reflected in her metallic irises and scorched into the pits of her soul. He crushed her against his chest and glanced at her—obviously panic-stricken. She smiled softly and closed her eyes. His blue eyes widened and felt an impulse to shake her awake. However, the natural rise and fall of her chest assured him that the female was alive and breathing. Gabriel scooped up the woman-child and glared at the people. His pupils dilated and nostrils flared. That vein at his temple was practically throbbing.

It was still drizzling.

Then one by one, the people dropped like flies. Their bodies dissipated into the oblivion and only their clothing remained. It was the ripple effect from the inside out. Gabriel scoured across the field of clothes and his bat ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps. He whirled around and a suggesting hiss was forced through his teeth.

A man clad in black approached the pair, his emerald eye betraying his reaction. He cocked his head to the side in bewilderment at the situation.

"You fucking cur! You fare show your face?" Gabriel snarled viciously at his ex-friend. The green-eyed man slowly nodded and his sight traveled to the massive burnt pile of wood and Lucia's body that had laid cold on the concrete.

"Hmm, that did not work out as I have planned," Darian commented.

"I will rip out your filthy heart and eat it, Adrian!" the vampire continued with his threatening rants.

"You're so close. Switch the first two letters around…D-a-r-i-a-n," the green-eyed man answered. Such childish antics. Oh, I am shaking in my patent leather boots!

There was stunned silence from the vampire.

"You're really dense sometimes, old friend," Darian sneered.

Gabriel stood with his love in his arms. Darian frowned.

"That didn't go exactly as plan…oh well," he sighed.

"What?" the vampire exclaimed.

"I was planning to have the crowd rip you two up…" Darian answered. "What humans lack, they make up in sheer numbers and single-mindedness." The dark-cladded man turned around and began to walk away.

"You're walking away after you're done gloating?" Gabriel snapped.

"I don't have time for you shrimps. You see…I eradicated the Council. It was quite easy. The fools were old, senile and sadly not much of a challenge." Pause. "Oh, I did have the liberty of leafing through a few documents and did some tampering on one." Blink. Gone.

Gabriel glimpsed at the slumbering maiden and tried to shake her awake.

"Rowan? Rowan?" he whispered anxiously. She did not wake for the longest time. They stood alone in the vast field of cloth, metal and concrete.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Lover's Requiem

The automatic door slid open. A tall Caucasian man strode through clutching a bouquet of tiger lilies. Several of the nurses giggled and chattered amongst themselves about the dashing man who comes to St. Sebastian's Hospital almost daily. He passed the reception desk with a curt nod and headed towards the elevators. A spidery finger pushed the up arrow and lights illuminated the descending numbers. Ding. The male entered the life and pressed the number three on his right. Behind him was a little old lady with a bun that flopped indecisively on her skull.

"Are you an angel?" she asked, dazed by the sculpture of a creature that seemed to have stepped out of the erotic novels that she was so keen on reading.

"Not quite," Gabriel answered humbly.

Ding. He exits and maneuvered down the stark white hallways. The voices of the dying and machinery flew into one ear and out the other. He made a left, right, and left. He was confidently sure that no one was 12-C and opened the door, entering quietly.

"Rowan?" he whispered. No reply. She still must be sleeping. He replaced the asphodel with tiger lilies. He threw the wither blossoms into the trash. Gabriel took a seat in an armchair that had his body's imprint because of the amount of time he spent there. He would perhaps spend all day gazing at his sweet, anticipating for her to wake from her Snow White slumber that his Prince's kiss could not break. The chair was positioned not too far away. His eyes passed over the needles that bruised her pale arms, tubers dangled out of multiple orficies and machinery that constantly beeped. He placed the side of his ankle on his other thigh and interlocked his spidery fingers.

"I went to church today for confession," Gabriel mused to the sleeping beauty. He had made it a habit to talk about his day. Doctors say that hearing a familiar voice will wake those in a coma by suggestive guidance. A strange thing the subconscious is.

" 'Forgive me, father for I have sinned. It has been a long, long time since my last confession,' I said"

" 'Tell me, my son,' Father Brian said, making the sign of the cross.'"

"I poured my heart to the stranger, telling him of my faults, love, murder…my sins. I personally thought that God tolerated vampires. We were once his people and we still are even when evolution took a step forward. God can be translated into Yahweh, Allah, Buddha and other poly gods. Then I told Father Brian that I was four hundred years old."

" 'You should not utter lies in the House of God,' Father Brian protested."

" 'I did not lie,' I answered. To prove my point, I used my inhumane speed. I do admit that it was flashy of me, but I had no other way to do it. Perhaps you would laugh at me Rowan and call me 'silly rabbit'. Now that I think about it—it was stupid of me, but you will be even more disappointed in me by what happened next. My body was a pallid blur as I made a trip around the church. Then I grabbed the father's white roman collar and lifted him off the ground single-handedly. I placed him down then galloped behind the pew where sunlight cascaded in through the stained glass windows. The results were as I sarcastically put it—sparkle, sparkle, Hallelujah. Father Brian fell to his knees and wept 'Saint Gabriel!'"

"I groaned. Even I left Mannequin to travel to Orlando, the news of my _heavenly _presence traveled east and lasted over eighteen months."

" 'No…please…get up…'I plucked Father Brian up his collar and forced him to stand. What he was when he looked at my face—I did not know, but it was enough to send him into horror. He screamed and wiggled out of my grip. He ran deeper into the church and probably headed for his office. I paced quickly after him."

"Patter. Patter. Patter. Whoosh. Whoosh. Patter. Patter. Patter. Whoosh. Whoosh. Slam! Click! Sigh!"

"I knocked on the door of the Father's office. No answer. I jiggled the door knob. It was locked obviously. I punched a hole in the door to get to the other side. I unlocked it so from my new entrance. The door swung open. Father Brian was standing with a bottle of Holy Water, a wooden cross in one hand and hammer in the other. I almost exasperatedly sigh for the superstitious fools. What use is in an item blessed by a human being?"

" 'Be gone, Devil. How dare you take on the face of the Evil-Slayer!" Father Brian splashed or rather sloshed Holy Water onto my ace. His face fell from anxiety to dread. He expected me to melt like the wicked Witch, but it felt rather refreshing. I wiped the water off my brow and readied myself for the onslaught. Father roared forward nobly with stake and hammer, ye ancient tools of vampire slaying."

"The wood contacted with my marble self and the hammer on the wood. The stake cracked and shattered into hundreds of little silvers. Unfortunately, some of the splinters drove themselves into Father's skull like .9 mm bullets. Blood gushed out from the wounds and stained the nice carpet. Sigh. Reluctantly I had to clean up the mess which meant feeding as the human vacuum. I would go into details, but it brings back distasteful memories. I think I have still have lint in my gums. I respectly crammed and buried Father Brian under the pew. Amen."

"Why would I reveal myself onto a stranger? I doubt you could comprehend it…"

Beepbeep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beep.

"That is a horrible pun on the Morse code, Rowan," the vampire commented. He rose from his seat and hovered over his beloved. Rowan's hair had somehow been bleached and her body dramatically lost 35 pounds. A frail husk. Gabriel stroked the side of her face and traced her lips with an icy finger. Her lips quivered in response to the coldness. His eyes averted with aching and sobbed quietly to himself.

"All I wanted to do was conquer Fate itself," he quoted. He glanced back at Rowan and to his surprise found a pair of gray eyes staring back at him.

"Why—are—you—complaining?" was the first thing that popped out of her mouth. She ripped the tube away that was taped under her nose.

"I am not complaining," he started to argue. Then he laughed. The laughter lightened his heart and cleared his lungs for oxygen that he was not necessary.

"You chose the greater of two evils," Rowan pointed out with an underlying tone of tease.

"Cease with the dramatics. You're not going to die," he exclaimed.

"Yah," the female propped her upper body onto her elbows. Gabriel quickly repositioned the pillow so she could sit up. "I am hungry…"

The vampire opened and closed his fist as he stared at the blonde woman-child in horror. It was the dreaded sense of déjà vu.

"Whaaaaaaa—?" she whined. Even underweight she was still the same. "I need 7,000 calories!"

"That is about six and quarter greasy cheeseburgers," he calculated, "including a side of low-sodium fries with fry sauce."

Rowan's laughter was strained. Hahaha. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. And he headed towards the desk shoved into a corner. Whap! He froze and glanced over his shoulder to see Rowan leaning on the edge of her bed, hand outstretched. She spanked him!

"You have a bony ass," she commented, annoyed. Shock! Shock! Gabriel turned around to loom over her. The woman-child slowly got onto her knees and closed the distance between them until they were nose-to-nose.

"Stop—wallowing!" Rowan rasped. "Do you know how tired I am seeing her in your eyes? For bloody sakes', suck it up and move on! No! Do not say anything! What—do not give me that look! What the hell do I have to do? Fine! Fine! I will dye my hair! Happy? Happy?" Her voice escalated to sonic shrieks. Her heart pounded rapidly against her chest, her eyes were squinted with tears of fury. She grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him like a lunatic.

"I am—sorry," he whispered, forming each word carefully. His sapphire eyes were as clear as the Cassis sea. He wrapped his arms around her body and his face was etched with the wounded puppy look. Rowan wept—she wept in his place for his sorrow and hers.

"I will make it up to you, Rowan…" he promised. He brushed her silvery blonde tresses back to expose her neck. He leaned in savoring her jasmine scent that had a hint of curry. An Indian evening, he imagined her in a black and red sari, bedecked with jewels. My never-bride.

Crack. Gabriel's forearm fractured and that moment of hesitation from him allowed the female to slide back across the bed. She reached over her head and grabbed the IV stand, brandishing expertly like a pole arm.

"Don't—you—dare," every word was forced out from her teeth, her chest rose and fell staggered. Her hold loosened on the metal stick and it bounced on the mattress. Rowan fell forward for the room had blurred and split into alternating dual images. The vampire easily caught her and laid her form back down.

"Please…let me do this for you," he pleaded.

"I let you…the circle will never end," she replied, her voice faint.

"I will find a way to break—," he argued, but was silence by her shaking her head.

"I have a confession, too," she mused. "Vampirism was not intentional. It was just a way of keeping you alive long enough to—"

"Rowan…you are turning incoherent…" he crooned.

"I was not brave enough back then," she continued, ignoring him. "Now—I am." She sighed contently and then her heart line went flat. The monitor echoed his distress.

Gabriel gazed calmly down at her deceased darling and made quick contingency plans. He ran across the room using his vampire speed and began stacking the furniture against the door so no one could enter. Then, he removed his shirt, pulled aside the curtains and raised the windows.

The bright, intense Floridian cascaded and illuminated his cells. Sparkle. Sparkly. Minutes rolled by, the room filled the golden glitter, resembling faerie dust suspended in the air like a snow globe. Gabriel closed his azure eyes and felt a strange emotion of resolve in his heart. I am done, he thought. Our time has passed…the sun was claiming him…the new generations…The UV rays shone and was absorbed by his skin. The energy traveled to every part of his system and purified his body cells. It is less painful if you just let go. Gabriel predicted that he would be mildly transparent and the fact that he could not feel his feet was a given. Sparkle. Sparkle. It was a beautiful way to cease existence. The heat of the sun fluctuated, but the process was still strong.

There was loud pounding on the door. The cries of "Open the door!" seem distant in the depths of his mind. Something was wrong with this—it was taking too long. He should be scattered into the wind by now.

Alright then. Science for vampires 101. A vampire and direct sunshine is like a laser and a mirror. The laser reflects off of the mirror and—okay, not a good comparison! The point is how can the mirror stand being used as a reflector before it starts to melt by the heat? Back to the story.

"Fuck!"he exclaimed, shutting the curtain. He opened his eyes and walked towards the bed. The golden particles in the atmosphere were slowly being absorbed back into his body. I can feel my toes, he thought.

"Why? Why will you not just let me die?" he asked the corpse. Rowan gave no post-humous answer.

Bumpbump. Bump. Bump. Bump. The vampire felt a strange vibration from his chest. His senses dimmed as if a miasma came along and his body bent over with the sudden additional weight. My heart…it is beating.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Thirteen: Lover's Requiem

The automatic door slid open. A tall Caucasian man strode through clutching a bouquet of tiger lilies. Several of the nurses giggled and chattered amongst themselves about the dashing man who comes to St. Sebastian's Hospital almost daily. He passed the reception desk with a curt nod and headed towards the elevators. A spidery finger pushed the up arrow and lights illuminated the descending numbers. Ding. The male entered the life and pressed the number three on his right. Behind him was a little old lady with a bun that flopped indecisively on her skull.

"Are you an angel?" she asked, dazed by the sculpture of a creature that seemed to have stepped out of the erotic novels that she was so keen on reading.

"Not quite," Gabriel answered humbly.

Ding. He exits and maneuvered down the stark white hallways. The voices of the dying and machinery flew into one ear and out the other. He made a left, right, and left. He was confidently sure that no one was 12-C and opened the door, entering quietly.

"Rowan?" he whispered. No reply. She still must be sleeping. He replaced the asphodel with tiger lilies. He threw the wither blossoms into the trash. Gabriel took a seat in an armchair that had his body's imprint because of the amount of time he spent there. He would perhaps spend all day gazing at his sweet, anticipating for her to wake from her Snow White slumber that his Prince's kiss could not break. The chair was positioned not too far away. His eyes passed over the needles that bruised her pale arms, tubers dangled out of multiple orficies and machinery that constantly beeped. He placed the side of his ankle on his other thigh and interlocked his spidery fingers.

"I went to church today for confession," Gabriel mused to the sleeping beauty. He had made it a habit to talk about his day. Doctors say that hearing a familiar voice will wake those in a coma by suggestive guidance. A strange thing the subconscious is.

" 'Forgive me, father for I have sinned. It has been a long, long time since my last confession,' I said"

" 'Tell me, my son,' Father Brian said, making the sign of the cross.'"

"I poured my heart to the stranger, telling him of my faults, love, murder…my sins. I personally thought that God tolerated vampires. We were once his people and we still are even when evolution took a step forward. God can be translated into Yahweh, Allah, Buddha and other poly gods. Then I told Father Brian that I was four hundred years old."

" 'You should not utter lies in the House of God,' Father Brian protested."

" 'I did not lie,' I answered. To prove my point, I used my inhumane speed. I do admit that it was flashy of me, but I had no other way to do it. Perhaps you would laugh at me Rowan and call me 'silly rabbit'. Now that I think about it—it was stupid of me, but you will be even more disappointed in me by what happened next. My body was a pallid blur as I made a trip around the church. Then I grabbed the father's white roman collar and lifted him off the ground single-handedly. I placed him down then galloped behind the pew where sunlight cascaded in through the stained glass windows. The results were as I sarcastically put it—sparkle, sparkle, Hallelujah. Father Brian fell to his knees and wept 'Saint Gabriel!'"

"I groaned. Even I left Mannequin to travel to Orlando, the news of my _heavenly _presence traveled east and lasted over eighteen months."

" 'No…please…get up…'I plucked Father Brian up his collar and forced him to stand. What he was when he looked at my face—I did not know, but it was enough to send him into horror. He screamed and wiggled out of my grip. He ran deeper into the church and probably headed for his office. I paced quickly after him."

"Patter. Patter. Patter. Whoosh. Whoosh. Patter. Patter. Patter. Whoosh. Whoosh. Slam! Click! Sigh!"

"I knocked on the door of the Father's office. No answer. I jiggled the door knob. It was locked obviously. I punched a hole in the door to get to the other side. I unlocked it so from my new entrance. The door swung open. Father Brian was standing with a bottle of Holy Water, a wooden cross in one hand and hammer in the other. I almost exasperatedly sigh for the superstitious fools. What use is in an item blessed by a human being?"

" 'Be gone, Devil. How dare you take on the face of the Evil-Slayer!" Father Brian splashed or rather sloshed Holy Water onto my ace. His face fell from anxiety to dread. He expected me to melt like the wicked Witch, but it felt rather refreshing. I wiped the water off my brow and readied myself for the onslaught. Father roared forward nobly with stake and hammer, ye ancient tools of vampire slaying."

"The wood contacted with my marble self and the hammer on the wood. The stake cracked and shattered into hundreds of little silvers. Unfortunately, some of the splinters drove themselves into Father's skull like .9 mm bullets. Blood gushed out from the wounds and stained the nice carpet. Sigh. Reluctantly I had to clean up the mess which meant feeding as the human vacuum. I would go into details, but it brings back distasteful memories. I think I have still have lint in my gums. I respectly crammed and buried Father Brian under the pew. Amen."

"Why would I reveal myself onto a stranger? I doubt you could comprehend it…"

Beepbeep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beep.

"That is a horrible pun on the Morse code, Rowan," the vampire commented. He rose from his seat and hovered over his beloved. Rowan's hair had somehow been bleached and her body dramatically lost 35 pounds. A frail husk. Gabriel stroked the side of her face and traced her lips with an icy finger. Her lips quivered in response to the coldness. His eyes averted with aching and sobbed quietly to himself.

"All I wanted to do was conquer Fate itself," he quoted. He glanced back at Rowan and to his surprise found a pair of gray eyes staring back at him.

"Why—are—you—complaining?" was the first thing that popped out of her mouth. She ripped the tube away that was taped under her nose.

"I am not complaining," he started to argue. Then he laughed. The laughter lightened his heart and cleared his lungs for oxygen that he was not necessary.

"You chose the greater of two evils," Rowan pointed out with an underlying tone of tease.

"Cease with the dramatics. You're not going to die," he exclaimed.

"Yah," the female propped her upper body onto her elbows. Gabriel quickly repositioned the pillow so she could sit up. "I am hungry…"

The vampire opened and closed his fist as he stared at the blonde woman-child in horror. It was the dreaded sense of déjà vu.

"Whaaaaaaa—?" she whined. Even underweight she was still the same. "I need 7,000 calories!"

"That is about six and quarter greasy cheeseburgers," he calculated, "including a side of low-sodium fries with fry sauce."

Rowan's laughter was strained. Hahaha. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. And he headed towards the desk shoved into a corner. Whap! He froze and glanced over his shoulder to see Rowan leaning on the edge of her bed, hand outstretched. She spanked him!

"You have a bony ass," she commented, annoyed. Shock! Shock! Gabriel turned around to loom over her. The woman-child slowly got onto her knees and closed the distance between them until they were nose-to-nose.

"Stop—wallowing!" Rowan rasped. "Do you know how tired I am seeing her in your eyes? For bloody sakes', suck it up and move on! No! Do not say anything! What—do not give me that look! What the hell do I have to do? Fine! Fine! I will dye my hair! Happy? Happy?" Her voice escalated to sonic shrieks. Her heart pounded rapidly against her chest, her eyes were squinted with tears of fury. She grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him like a lunatic.

"I am—sorry," he whispered, forming each word carefully. His sapphire eyes were as clear as the Cassis sea. He wrapped his arms around her body and his face was etched with the wounded puppy look. Rowan wept—she wept in his place for his sorrow and hers.

"I will make it up to you, Rowan…" he promised. He brushed her silvery blonde tresses back to expose her neck. He leaned in savoring her jasmine scent that had a hint of curry. An Indian evening, he imagined her in a black and red sari, bedecked with jewels. My never-bride.

Crack. Gabriel's forearm fractured and that moment of hesitation from him allowed the female to slide back across the bed. She reached over her head and grabbed the IV stand, brandishing expertly like a pole arm.

"Don't—you—dare," every word was forced out from her teeth, her chest rose and fell staggered. Her hold loosened on the metal stick and it bounced on the mattress. Rowan fell forward for the room had blurred and split into alternating dual images. The vampire easily caught her and laid her form back down.

"Please…let me do this for you," he pleaded.

"I let you…the circle will never end," she replied, her voice faint.

"I will find a way to break—," he argued, but was silence by her shaking her head.

"I have a confession, too," she mused. "Vampirism was not intentional. It was just a way of keeping you alive long enough to—"

"Rowan…you are turning incoherent…" he crooned.

"I was not brave enough back then," she continued, ignoring him. "Now—I am." She sighed contently and then her heart line went flat. The monitor echoed his distress.

Gabriel gazed calmly down at her deceased darling and made quick contingency plans. He ran across the room using his vampire speed and began stacking the furniture against the door so no one could enter. Then, he removed his shirt, pulled aside the curtains and raised the windows.

The bright, intense Floridian cascaded and illuminated his cells. Sparkle. Sparkly. Minutes rolled by, the room filled the golden glitter, resembling faerie dust suspended in the air like a snow globe. Gabriel closed his azure eyes and felt a strange emotion of resolve in his heart. I am done, he thought. Our time has passed…the sun was claiming him…the new generations…The UV rays shone and was absorbed by his skin. The energy traveled to every part of his system and purified his body cells. It is less painful if you just let go. Gabriel predicted that he would be mildly transparent and the fact that he could not feel his feet was a given. Sparkle. Sparkle. It was a beautiful way to cease existence. The heat of the sun fluctuated, but the process was still strong.

There was loud pounding on the door. The cries of "Open the door!" seem distant in the depths of his mind. Something was wrong with this—it was taking too long. He should be scattered into the wind by now.

Alright then. Science for vampires 101. A vampire and direct sunshine is like a laser and a mirror. The laser reflects off of the mirror and—okay, not a good comparison! The point is how can the mirror stand being used as a reflector before it starts to melt by the heat? Back to the story.

"Fuck!"he exclaimed, shutting the curtain. He opened his eyes and walked towards the bed. The golden particles in the atmosphere were slowly being absorbed back into his body. I can feel my toes, he thought.

"Why? Why will you not just let me die?" he asked the corpse. Rowan gave no post-humous answer.

Bumpbump. Bump. Bump. Bump. The vampire felt a strange vibration from his chest. His senses dimmed as if a miasma came along and his body bent over with the sudden additional weight. My heart…it is beating.

Chapter Fourteen: Anniversary

A black Mercedes Benz pulled up the street and parked right across from iron gates. The doors opened and three people of varying heights got out. One was the driver who was over six feet, had mahogany hair with an odd streak of white and wore shades. He wore a black Armani suit and the chain from his pocket watch dangled against his outer thigh. Two was a little girl with raven hair halved into pigtails and stared at the iron gate with big, round sapphire eyes. She wore a white Elvin-styled gown with off the shoulder butterfly sleeves and periwinkle trimmings. Lastly was a boy who could easily have been the girl's fraternal twin. He had bronze-colored hair and blue-gray eyes that can glare a hole through any material. His expression reflected the older male's. Solemn. The little girl giggled and skipped merrily across the street. She waited for the others at the gate.

"Hurry up, slowpokes!" she giggled. Her eyes traveled upwards toward the arched sign that read "Manzanar Cemetery". The other males followd after, carrying a bouquet of tiger lillies. The tall man opened the gates and lead the way.

"Manzanar's a funny name for a graveyard," the girl chirped.

"It means "apple orchard" in Spanish", her twin said.

"Oh, so can we eat them?" the girl asked.

"That—would be ill-advised…to eat the fruits of the dead…"her twin paused. "Persephone".

"What is a purse-phony? Gasp! Fake accessories made in sweat shops?" the girl concluded.

"No," he answered, quickening his pace to match his elder. The trio passed dozens of tombstones. Many were unkempt and the inscriptions on them had started to deteriorate. In the far corner of the cemetery sat a lone apple tree on the tiniest knoll. The tress was full of white blossoms and in the winter would rain petals on the grave that lay at the foot of the trunk.

The tall man placed the flowers down in front of the grave and brushed the debris off of the headstone. The two children had gone off playing among the more grandiose tombs. He sighed and knelt down on one knee. His index fingers traced the engraved outline an angel holding a spear in one hand with words underneath:

"_Here lies Rowan Triste._

_The Black Lady, Beloved Mother, Adopted Sister, Wonderful Hospital Patient and Warrior._

_She was the bravest of the All."_

He sighed and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were the color of the ocean, blue and murky.

"They forgot to add, 'she left too soon,'" he commented. "Long time no see, lover." The man smiled and embraced the slab of stone. "I hope you are happy wherever you are."

A little breeze answered his words. An apple blossom disconnected with its branch and siblings to land gingerly on his head.

"Don't move," a velvet voice command from behind, "Gabriel." The brunette felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his skull.

The man hissed, "What do you want, Daraniel?"

"To finish my job," Darian answered.

"Were you not fired from your job?" Gabriel mused. Click.

'Shut up! This should be easy since you're human," the red-haired man stated.

"Am I? How do you know that I have not evolved into a demon?" the other male goaded.

"I'm positive," Darian answered.

"Please…you and I both know that Rowan still has a few tricks up her sleeve even when is dead," the other one said respectfully.

"Liar!" Darian's voice wavered.

"Watch," in one swift move, Gabriel grabbed a handful of dirt, spun around and flung it into Darian's eyes. The gun dropped from the red-haired man he tried to claw the dirt of his eyes. Gabriel gained possession of the fun and followed through with an elbow to nose which shoved the cartilage into the skull along with a series of gunshots at the critical organs. Bambambam! Darian fell backwards with a look of surprise and a fountain of blood sprouted forth.

Gabriel shrugged off his jacket and wiped the blood off of the tombstone then he draped it over for additional protection. He glanced over his shoulder and could have sworn the bastard's last words were "Cleareye". He stooped and looped his arms under the body's armpit and dragged away the corpse.

The two children froze when they heard the gunshots. The little girl uttered a cry and ran into the arms of safety of her brother. One figure was obviously winning. The other had fallen. Who was who on the knoll.

"Is it father?" the girl sobbed, fat tears ran down her chubby cheeks.

"No…he would not dare to leave us," the boy stated matter-of-factly, "not like this anyways."

The last few words made the cry even harder. There was an alarmed response from the boy and he pattered her back uncertainly.

The one blob is the distance merged with the second blob and left together. The children waited patiently for their father to return. Slowly a figure walked towards them. They held their breaths and watched the person come closer. The two children's heart throbbed frantically in their chest and ears. He came closer and closer and closer.

The boy caught the gleam of sapphire eyes and relaxed his protective stance. His sister still trembled with fear.

"Wha-what if he's dead?" the girl asked.

"We'll give him an apple from Mother," the boy answered.

"Father c-can't come back with Vitamin C!" she cried.

"Fruit of the dead," he reminded her.

"But those are pomegranates!" she squeaked.

A tired laughter startled them. A mahogany-haired man stood a few feet away with them with scratched, dirt-caked hands.

"Who died now?" he inquired innocently.

"Daddy", the girl exclaimed, rushing towards him with rosy cheeks. She buried her face into his vast shirt and carefully minded the debris.

"Come on, you two," Gabriel walked on towards the Iron Gate with his daughter clinging to his leg. The boy scuttled beside the father and kept staring at him with inquiring eyes.

"Father, what happened there?" he asked.

"I will speak of it when you understand vengeance," Gabriel promised.

They stepped beyond the looming door and crossed the concrete river of chaos. Gabriel brushed the dirt from his hands and waited patiently for his children to buckle in safely. His eyes took one last look at the cemetery. In the distance, under the shade of one of many apple trees, stood a white outline of a woman wearing his bloodied Armani coat and she was waving.

Gabriel sighed, shoved his sunglasses up his nose, got into the car and closed the door. He turned the key in the ignition and heard it purr to life. He adjusted his rearview mirror and stomped on the gas.

"I never told you why your mother loved tiger lilies so much, did I?" he said to fill in the silence, his voice slightly strained.

"No…" the twins answered slowly. "In the language of flowers, they mean "Dare to Love," he said.

"Oh", the girl said flatly, obviously still depressed.

"Oh," the boy exclaimed, the light bulb turning on his head.

The Mercedes Benz drove on into what ever time of day it was: dusk, noon, sunset or twilight.

In Memory of Thomas White

I never got to talk to him again and I forgot his middle initial.

Be happy in Oklahoma, Tomcat. 3


End file.
